Circadian Rhythm
by Xazz
Summary: Avians had appeared in the fossil record suddenly and with little warning. It was like at some point in human evolution there weren't avians, and then all at once; there they were.
1. Part One: Surgery

Part One

REM Cycle

* * *

Desmond dreaded the day he was supposed to begin changing, especially since it was something that had been hung over his head for years. Ever since he was little, he was told over and over, it seemed. Back then, it sounded like a blessing, something amazing, like some great gift, to grow these wings.

And looking at the other avians, Desmond would often feel awe and a strange pride. He'd have wings like that someday, or so he was told. But as he got older, the tests and training, building endurance, he felt like he was being pushed so much harder than everyone else. Having that idea of wings in the future began to take on the appearance of a chore.

Slowly, he grew to resent the treatment, especially since it meant he wasn't allowed to leave the Farm. Not even once. He didn't think he looked /that/ different from the more human of the Order. So his eyes were gold sometimes, and he had a nictitating membrane. So what?

Alright. It definitely wasn't supposed to hurt this much. Desmond scooted off of the bed he'd slept on for practically two decades, maneuvering his way on his stomach. He crept through the halls barefoot, hoping not to get caught as he took the long trek toward the avian wing, where he knew he could find Altair. Hell, he'd even risk waking the Syrian as long as it meant he could nab some painkillers without being carted off to med bay for the abscesses over his shoulder blades.

There wasn't a noise that happened within five feet of his door that Altair didn't hear or was aware of. He slept light, had for a long time. You didn't get to be his age without learning how to sleep with one eye open. He slept with the sun, waking and sleeping when it did and did so on his stomach. Most avians did, their wings too big and clumsy to sleep on their sides or back without getting in the way or aching when they woke up. The tips of Altair's primaries nearly touched the ground when he slept that was how far they hung off the bed, even slightly folded as they were.

He woke when someone came near his room. For a second jerking into half wakefulness of just knowing someone was there but not knowing if he needed to wake fully or not. His eyelids fought against gravity as he stared at the door and waited to see if they'd walk past or not.

Desmond stood at the door for a long time, bracing himself against the sturdy frame while he tried to ignore the tight pain in his back. He hadn't realized he'd begun to sweat, teeth nearly grinding with how tightly his jaw was clenched.

He let himself in after steeling himself. The only thing that got him moving was telling himself that he was a grown man, dammit, and it didn't hurt as bad as that time he broke his ribs.

That was a fucking lie, it hurt like hell, and he was probably just making it worse by refusing to admit he should have submitted himself to medical for the surgery to release the wings. Honestly, most of the things he did were while he was nearly delirious with pain, so nothing Desmond really did made any logical sense.

"... Altair...? Are you-" He tried not to swear too loudly, even though it felt like the heated throb of pain was beginning to subside for the time being. "Are you awake?" Desmond finished kind of dumbly, pushing the door half open.

Altair's eye opened fully, just the one. What the hell was Desmond doing here? He didn't even sleep in this part of the compound. With a grunt he pushed himself up a bit, his long, sandy wings folding up a bit so they didn't bump into anything. "Des?" he asked, blinking, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I didn't wanna go to med," he blurted, immediately hating himself for being forthcoming. "I just want to be able to sleep." For Desmond, Altair had a slight, warm glow, but that was the extent of what he could see in the dark.

Since his talent with Eagle Vision made itself apparent, he found himself in an almost perpetual state of it at night. Desmond's avian instincts drove him to be wary in the dark.

"Med?" Altair was momentarily confused, his brain needed a few seconds to catch up. Then he was dragging himself out of bed. His wings sagged and his primaries dragged along the floor, he wasn't awake enough to hold them up properly, they were so damn long. Like most avians Altair lived shirtless since it was annoying to get clothes that would fit and conform over your wings. He walked over to Desmond who had sweated through the thin shirt he was wearing. Altar cocked his head at Desmond in a bird-like manner, Desmond's eyes were sort of halfway into Eagle Vision, like a flickering lamp. "What do you want?" he asked again.

Desmond was quiet for a minute, catching the last of his breath. "Vi...codin?" Altair had given it to him once - and he'd pilfered plenty. "It- they really hurt."

He didn't want them to be ready, he didn't want to be ready. Each time he told himself that, though, a part of himself wanted so badly to have a pair like Altair's. Or even Connor's, strong, banded and dark.

It was a struggle for Desmond to bite back a pained whimper. "I don't wanna be awake when they take them out," he finished, feeling uselessly lame.

Altair was more awake now, more alert. "What?" but it was rhetorical, he wasn't expecting an answer. He grabbed Desmond by the shoulder and turned him around, so his back was to Altair and he yanked up the back of Desmond's shirt. His back was malformed from the large abscesses that took up most of the space on either side of his spine. Altair could see the pointed joint of the wing press against the skin like an infant in the womb before it vanished again.

He laid his hand very gently on Desmond's skin, barely touching. Well they looked ready. The skin usually grew thin, nearly to the point of being translucent, when the wings needed to be released. It'd do no good to send him to the medical area, they wouldn't cut them out anyway even though he could see a bit. Bill was controlling when exactly Desmond had his wings out. No one liked it.

He turned Desmond back around and frowned, "C'mon, I'll get some," he pulled Desmond into his room and closed the door. It was much cooler in his room than the hallway, Altair liked it that way since avians burned warmer than normal people, had a higher metabolism. What was cold for humans was acceptable for avians. Desmond though felt warm where Altair touched him. "And some cold water," he said and made Desmond sit on his bed before going into the bathroom he shared with the room next to his with Ezio. He opened the drug cabinet and pulled out the pain killers and filled a cup, that they usually used to rinse out their mouths, with cold tap water. "Here," he handed Desmond two of the capsules, and the water.

He had to literally bite his tongue when Altair checked the lumps, even with how light his touch was. Desmond had gotten used to feeling them move under his skin, but he really tried not to move them of his own volition.

Pushed to sit, he sat without question, watching Altair leave. He wriggled out of his shirt, nearly moaning at the relief simply removing the garment provided. He had no idea that the slight pressure of even the damn shirt caused pain.

Desmond looked up when he heard the door again. He almost drank the water without taking the pills. And the water was absolutely amazing. He thanked whatever fickle, lucky star he had for his metabolism, knowing he would soon feel the pain killers.

Altair put his hands on Desmond's head, making him look up at Altair, who frowned. Desmond was nearly completely delirious with pain. "Why didn't you go to med before you went to sleep for pain killers?" he asked Desmond seriously. He could remember what it was like the few days before his wings had been let out. It had been agony. But he hadn't been an idiot about it and had taken vicodin like clockwork to keep the pain at pay.

He turned his head into one of Altair's hands, feeling the stub of his missing finger and finding it oddly comforting. Desmond opened his mouth to answer before he really had thought the words over as he often did. "They would've done a buncha tests... I'm tired of needles and beeping monitors and stethoscopes - they're freezing cold."

And being told to breathe deep, no, deeper, from the diaphragm boy, not the chest. He had just wanted to sleep, and not deal with the latex gloves that made him sneeze.

Desmond yawned, more resting his head in Altair's hands now.

"Not this close to them coming out they wouldn't have," cause you messed up this close to them needing to be removed and you could fuck the entire thing up. They didn't tell you that till after the surgery though. "Feeling better now?" Altair asked him as Desmond sagged in his hands, he knew the area where Desmond slept was kept at a temperature more suitable for humans. In their rooms, Altair and the other fully grown avians that is, they insisted on a lower temperature so they didn't sweat themselves to death. Being in here probably felt like a breath of fresh air.

He asked if he could sleep there - or really tried to, tongue thick and heavy with sleep now that the pain was nothing more than a dull thought at the back of his head. Desmond's body knew too well that it needed to sleep, not only because it was dark, but his body would process the painkillers a lot faster than it said they lasted on the label and he might only have this chance to actually make it into a deep sleep.

Altair chuckled lowly in amusement when Desmond's mouth opened and moved a little to speak but nothing came out. "C'mon kid," he said and went to drag Desmond over to the head of the bed. It wouldn't be the first time Desmond had slept in his bed, he used to; when he was little. His or Connor's, because Bill was a hardass about everything including keeping Desmond away from the rest of the flock. Altair lay down on his side, Desmond next to him, the kid was practically asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Altair was tired, it was really late and he was ready to go back to sleep too. He shifted, kicked out the wing that was against the bed, it stuck out at a strange angle from his body, but it was comfortable. He raised the other one up before fanning it around Desmond, wrapping him in a cocoon of feathers, though didn't touch his back. Altair closed his eyes.

Dead to the world, he slept the rest of the night and woke with the sun even though he could not feel it. Pain came, immediate but second to the fact that Desmond knew that the sun was rising without seeing it. For a brief moment he felt fine, although disoriented somewhat, and in that moment pressed himself against the rigid flight feathers surrounding him as if he expected to be in a nest rather than a bed.

He carefully rolled himself onto his stomach, feeling the growing wings move through the fluid, still trapped. Desmond thought they were trying to spread, and buried his panic. There were crescent marks from his teeth in the meat of his thumb.

Unsure of exactly what changed, all he wanted then was them out so he could breathe.

Altair was awake when the sun was up and watched Desmond find it a few minutes later. He stayed where he was though, his big golden brown and sandy wing curled around Desmond's body like a shield from the sun that created diffused like through the curtains. "How do you feel?" he asked once he thought Desmond could function. The mounds on his back were significantly more translucent than Altair remembered them last night, either he'd seen them wrong..

Desmond let out a breath he hadn't quite realized he had been holding and sucked in another. "... Hurts," he ground out.

It wasn't that the wings were there surrounded completely in fluid, but coming to a point where they were stuck, folded awkwardly because they had grown into the space they had. The pain was a stiff kind of soreness that clung to his neck and shoulders like frostbite right before it went numb.

He forced himself to his knees, really only so that he could curl up in a pseudo fetal position. Desmond groped for his back, although his fingers stayed clear of the lumps, knowing the pain of touching them far too well.

Why the fuck weren't they just... born with them? Desmond did not feel like it was worth feeling like his spine was ripping from his body just to sprout a pair of wings. Each exhale was shaky, a little clipped. He was blocking the pain. Or, at least, what he could, which clearly was never enough.

"Yeah, they do," Altair agreed and pulled his wing up and retracted it as he sat up. He'd brought the bottle of vicodin with him last night. "Open your mouth," he said as he unscrewed the child safety cap and tapped a few into his palm. "Honestly why you don't have a bottle of these in your own room is beyond me," but then Altair had also destroyed medical equipment during his transition to winged avian because they wouldn't give him the strong stuff people like him needed to combat the pain of not just bones rearranging themselves, but also a whole new limb trying to burst out from under your skin. Since then he'd had a bottle of vicodin in his room at all times and no one said shit to him about it.

He took these dry, shaking like a leaf until his body went numb. It didn't quite relax, but he absolutely relished the feeling of the pain ebbing. Desmond twitched when he tried to straighten up a bit and he felt something warm and wet ooze a trail down his back. Having the abscesses leak wasn't new, but it made him stiffen. It was definitely thicker than the usual biological slurry.

"... Almost took too many," Desmond grunted. He dropped his head back into the pillow, eyes still screwed shut. "I want them out," he mumbled haltingly. "I just wanna eat, too, guh..." He could hardly keep anything down when the growing pains hit. Above all, though, he just wanted them out of his back where it didn't hurt anymore. It didn't help that they kept twitching and moving.

"They'll be out soon," Altair said and squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. It was concerning though that Desmond didn't know how to regulate the pain meds. "We could go to the med ward, see if they'll take them out early," though he doubted it. Bill wouldn't let them until they were nearly about to burst out of Desmond's back. The only reason some of the others hadn't had to suffer through that was because the flock leaders were around to put Bill in his place. Bill and his wife didn't have wings, but Desmond got them from his mother's side of the family. With Desmond though guys like Haytham or Edward, the oldest avians they had around, had little sway over what happened to him. Desmond was Bill's son, and he'd do what he wanted with his son. It was annoying and destructive, but there wasn't much they could do other than... well... not tell Bill.

Desmond made a pitiful noise, high pitched and at the back of his throat. He really hoped he was nodding, though he was too busy trying to stop the limbs from moving. When he was completely under the medication, though, it didn't matter much.

He felt like his eyes were always red and puffy, and sniffed out of reflex, nose positively stuffed. It took some doing, but Desmond got himself to the edge of the bed. Any other pain than the ever-present one in his back would have been welcomed with open arms. Hell, he would've walked right into a blade if it put his wings to rest.

"Hey," Altair said as Desmond wriggled away from him. One of his wings moved to sort of cup Desmond from falling off the bed. That wouldn't be good, especially if he landed on his back. He crawled over to Desmond, holding his wing in place, "Do they still hurt?" Altair asked, even as he placed his hand on Desmond's back. When he didn't react in pain Altair pressed his hand firmly back against the moving limbs. Some liquid oozed from his pores, but nothing substantial. The wings still inside Desmond's skin tried to push against Altair's hand but he was stronger and after a moment of pushing they relaxed, like finally accepting they had to wait to be spread.

Desmond sagged when they gave in, feeling a knot of pain unravel for the time being. Of course, it was replaced by a pang of hunger. He could think and walk, and he had an appetite which was made clear by an empty, squelching growl of his stomach. It made his face flush in embarrassment.

Altair chuckled, "C'mon, lets go get some grub," he squeezed Desmond's shoulder and rolled out of bed, his own wings folding up a bit. He went to the bathroom, washed his hands and pissed before going back into the bedroom with a washcloth he used to wiped Desmond's back off. "C'mon, out of bed, food time," and he dragged Desmond up to his feet.

He stood - albeit a little unsteadily - even with Altair's help. It probably was not healthy for him to have skipped eating this long, even less so because his body had been burning through whatever reserves he had to grow these wings.

Desmond sat heavily in the mess hall, sinking into the normally uncomfortable stool. At least, as heavily as his frame would allow. When he remembered that the food was halfway across the room, he made to move again only to be made victim to a vicious headrush.

"Just sit," Altair said, pushing Desmond back onto the seat. Christ this kid needed something in his stomach and probably some supplements on top of that. He went to where you could get food and piled the plate high with carbs and calories. He saw someone there looked at him oddly, because there was a lot of food on the plate, and because Altair still wasn't wearing a shirt, but Altair glared at them and they looked away. Good. Fucking humans couldn't keep their damn eyes to themselves.

He went back to Desmond who looked pale and set the plate down, "Eat," he said, sitting across from him. He'd brought himself food too, a much smaller plate though full of empty calories and carbs his body would burn off without much effort.

When Altair presented him with the plate, Desmond disregarded utensils, manners and basically every function that did not include getting food from the plate to his stomach. He chewed though, but found he had to stop and wait a few times to actually pause, swallow and collect himself. Other than that, he ate like he always did: with a black hole stomach despite being unused to actually eating this much recently.

Offhandedly, Desmond found himself hoping he didn't just turn around and puke, but holy shit, food was pretty goddamn amazing right now, and it definitely seemed to kickstart his metabolism. It also meant that wing growth would continue at a much faster pace since getting fresh energy.

Altair watched Desmond eat, down the table some people regarded Desmond with disgust. Oh this would get around, that Bill's son had not only eaten with his hands, but also didn't seem concerned with stopping. Altair didn't mind. He'd watched Ezio go through a similar state a few years ago when his wings had finally grown in. He did however grab both of Desmond's wrists at one point and hold them down on the table. He'd eaten about half the food Altair had brought him at that point. "You need to stop for a second so you don't make yourself sick." Altair said, giving Desmond's wrists a squeeze and knew he couldn't pull away. "Also drink," he added, nodding at the water he'd gotten while Desmond had been eating. He let one of Desmond's wrists go.

Desmond's fingers flexed when his hands were pinned. He brought the released hand to his mouth so that he could lick his fingers before reaching over to grab the cup. The water wasn't as cold as what came out of Altair's tap, but it felt pretty awesome sliding down his throat.

He said his thanks with a hum, looking up at Altair until he was allowed control of both hands. Stopping and actually hearing what Altair had said didn't make him want to eat again - he'd already had plenty of fever dreams, involuntarily puking in order to stay light enough to flee, and other strange things that the surfacing avian parts of him supplied his unconscious with. Desmond was looking at the food with a deep frown when his brain supplied the memory and hormone-instinct.

"Desmond," Altair said, drawing Desmond's focus to him, away from the food. Desmond's eyes flickered back and forth from gold to brown like a flashlight going on the fritz his second eyelid blinking rapidly like a camera shutter. Shit. He needed to have that surgery, he'd start hallucinating soon. "Eat," he ordered. When he was done here he was going to see Ed and Haytham. Bill wanted to wait but damnit Desmond was one of theirs. Technically winged avians fell under the jurisdiction of the highest ranked member of the flock. There was a stupid rule that said those without wings still fell under human policies. It meant Bill called the shots. But this could be bad if Desmond was allowed to suffer much longer. His wings wanted to come out. He would talk to Ed and Haytham. Maybe they just... wouldn't tell Bill. Then by the time he found out he wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

His brows drew together and he glanced back at the plate. Desmond didn't exactly want to eat, and groaned, the sound not quite the usual guttural human noise. He ate, though, driven by training to obey those above him. The second bite had his stomach remembering how much it needed the food, and he seemed, by all matters, to forget whatever it was that he saw.

Desmond was almost done before his eyes flickered again. He dropped the cup of water that had been destined for his mouth and reeled back when it splashed across him. It shook him out of the stupor though, but whatever it was that he saw already upset his wings, abscesses beginning to ooze again as they tried to spread again, but were still too weak to break skin.

"Fucking... fucking... rattle-fuck," he snarled under his breath, still heaving for air.

"Shit," Altair hissed and got to his feet, quickly going around to the other side of the table. He grabbed Desmond's head to look at him, his wings coming around the both of them to shield Desmond from the stars of the other people eating breakfast. "Des," he said, using a gentle voice, Desmond blinked hard at him. Even from here he could see that the forms on Desmond's back were taunt, the skin thin and translucent, threatening to burst. "I'm taking you to the med ward," and he helped Desmond stand, one of his wings going around Desmond protectively and walked him out of the cafeteria. Fuck Bill these were coming out now.

Desmond was really lost. Altair's voice came swimming in as he slipped back under. It pulled him back up, but left him disoriented. He wasn't exactly quiet either, though it was mostly just a babbling mess that made a lot more sense to him than Altair.

His eyes cleared enough to be filled with pain, and that sound was a screeching scream. He didn't wanna be conscious, not when they came out, but he couldn't speak. Not when his mouth was too busy screaming on the exhale. It was really only horrible when the fact of the matter was Desmond's lungs simply held a lot more air even when he began to hyperventilate.

It wasn't as if he was cooperating very well with Altair either. No, he spent equal time screaming until it became hoarse as he spent trying to claw at his back and Altair both. He'd rather be hallucinating than feeling this.

In the medical ward, he ended up just panting mostly, regaining a tenuous control of his vocal chords.

Once he got Desmond into the med ward the doctors showed. "What's going on?" one asked as Altair stuffed a gag into his mouth. God. His head was ringing from all that crying.

"He needs to have his surgery, now," he said.

The two of them looked between each other, "We haven't gotten the go ahead from Bill-

Altair flared his wings out menacingly. The underside of his wings were the color of charcoal smeared sand. "I don't care," he growled. "You will perform the surgery now. We will deal with Bill's hissy fit once it's over. If you don't I will cut him open myself."

Again the two doctor's traded looks. Altair knew they were scared of him. Most humans were, scared of avians that was. Despite being lighter than humans their muscles were larger, their organs, especially their hearts and lungs, were larger. Their muscles made them faster, stronger, their hearts pumped more oxygen enriched blood through their bodies so they could react faster and think faster. "Okay," one said, "we'll prep him for surgery."

The table they strapped Desmond to was an old piece, but it did the job of holding a thrashing Avian still when medical attention was needed to perform a surgery. Sedating them was almost always out of the question. It never lasted for the time needed, or it simply did not work at all.

Through the haze of pain, Desmond was clearly not pleased. His eyes were wide, almost glowing hot enough to be completely white. He was afraid, even if he couldn't flinch at the sound of gloves snapping, or really feel the slight added pressure when one of the doctors used gauze and isopropyl alcohol to clean and prep the taut skin.

The older of the two whistled as he drew the mask up over his nose and mouth. Desmond had even begun feathering, even though they were only the semi-clear tubes of shafts, they made bumps in the thinning skin of his back that were visible.

It took most of the body weight of one of them to keep the wing still enough for the doctor to take a scalpel to Desmond's skin. They had barely re-situated for the right wing now when the left forced its way from Desmond's back explosively. That had Desmond screaming again even around the cloth gag to keep him from biting his tongue.

His wings certainly were not waiting, and Desmond flinched when the weight of the sticky, pus and coagulated blood covered limb flopped gracelessly against his back. There was blood and fluid pretty much across the entire room. The right wing tore ribbons of Desmond's flesh up with it, both looking almost too large to have fit against his back.

Both of the wings just trembled, muscles to move them exerted with just the task of forcing them out.

Desmond felt the tear tracks on his face, and slowly became aware of the sound of his blood dripping from the right wing, and a particularly wet slap as a strip of his skin (itself, mostly bloodless) hit the ground.

The blood was more from skin that normally would not have broken, and both doctors were already working on cleaning and mending it to prevent scarring. In itself, it was a mostly useless gesture. Most of the skin of the back sloughed off once the wings were free. The body simply scrapped all of that skin, since there was already a new set of layers for the wings.

Altair stood with his arms folded behind the OR's doors. They had windows, you could see into the OR, which was honestly a glorified closet they'd made mostly sterile to perform surgeries in. They were important to have when you had avians in the area. Before modern medicine avians had just cut themselves to release the pressure of their wings, none of this surgery malarkey.

His jaw clenched when he saw that Desmond was starting to feather. Bill had waited too long. Your wings were supposed to be naked when they came out; that was healthy. If they started to feather inside your body the follicles could become infected exposed to the pus and mucus of your wing sacks that nearly acted as open sores. At least now Bill couldn't sink his claws into Desmond. Edward was the oldest avian in the compound, the 'official' leader of their little flock, though Haytham often acted more towards that role.

Now Desmond was avian and Bill could fuck off for all Altair cared, he wasn't human anymore as far as chain of command went. Altair and the others would take care of him. He needed to tell the others Desmond's wings had come. But he didn't want to leave until his surgery was over. So he waited, watching as Desmond's body seemed to relax into the gurney now that he didn't have that harsh, unbearable, pressure on his back anymore.

Desmond waited as patiently as he could for them to remove and dispose of the gag and free him from the gurney. It wasn't until each follicle had been checked, and each inch of the pink, new flesh cleaned that he was allowed movement once more.

The dull ache and slight pain of ripped skin was nothing to him. They were feelings he was aware of, but not concerned with. More than anything, he was tired, exhausted, and ready to go back to sleep. To hell with the fucking sun and the fact that it was just past noon now.

He was allowed to leave once the doctors decided that the only side effect was fatigue. The limbs were awkward, half folding and unsure of how to move, and for a long time, Desmond just sat at the edge of the table, trying to wrap his mind around the extensions of his body.

One of the doctors came out and said they were done, Altair could go in if he wanted. Altair did so and Desmond looked up as he approached. Altair's wings flared out to half curl around Desmond, some of the edges of his feathers touched Desmond's naked wings. They were tiny things compared to Altair's, new and fragile despite their strength. But they would grow quickly.

The flock would make sure he was on a proper diet to not stunt their growth and to make sure the rest of his bones and muscles didn't suffer. "Hey," he said gently and tipped Desmond's head up gently. Desmond looked like he was about to fall asleep where he sat, "ready to go?" he asked.

Desmond jerked a little, finding it really weird that he could feel Altair's feathers brushing over the wings behind him. He realized that they itched, and when he noticed it, the feeling was like fire.

He nodded when he noticed that Altair wanted a reply.

"Good," he helped Desmond up, "The others will find out soon you had your surgery," if for no other reason than they could smell it. The smell was a bit overwhelming. It was similar to the idea of new puppy or new baby smell, avians who were going through their downy phase had a certain smell to them. Humans didn't notice, but to avians it was like holding up a big sign that yelled 'keep bad things away from me I'm fragile!' Every instinct Altair had wanted to take Desmond back to his room and keep him there until his first molting and his flying feathers grew out. At the very least he could take Desmond back so he could sleep, no doubt the rest of the flock would arrive at his door at some point to be told properly about Desmond's wings.

He placed a protective arm around Desmond's shoulders, his wing mirroring him, shielding Desmond's still very vulnerable back. Desmond didn't seem to care where he went or what happened to him, just glad he was probably going to probably go somewhere cool and able to sleep. Altair took him back to his room and showed him the bed. "Sleep on your stomach," he reminded Desmond before he just fell asleep any which way. At this stage he could still probably sleep on his back, but he'd wake up in pain if he did, not to mention he'd ruin Altair's sheets with his peeling skin.

He felt himself kind of tumble into Altair's bed, crawl up until he was comfortable. Desmond grumbled and buried his face in the pillows. It seemed to be just enough to make him forget the sun was up - exhaustion notwithstanding.

Desmond's wings twitched, and then stretched out before going limp against his back and the bed around him.


	2. The Flock

Desmond's wings twitched, and then stretched out before going limp against his back and the bed around him.

Altair grinned as Desmond basically went catatonic almost as soon as he hit the pillow. Altair tugged his sheet up around Desmond' hips, but not further so his new wings wouldn't get caught in them. As soon as he did there was a knocking on his bathroom room. He shared that bathroom with Ezio so when he went to get it it could only mean one thing.

Ezio was the first to rap his knuckles against Altair's door. It was simply because his room was closest, and he smelled Desmond's fresh wings. He spoke quietly, sure that the fledgeling was asleep. "Do I get to see before disappearing to gather the rest of the flock? How long were you going to keep him before getting Maestro?" He laughed quietly, easing off on the locked door to Altair's room.

Even just from the walk through the compound the others were becoming aware of the new chick, and already there were voices down the hall. Connor, trying to keep Yusuf's voice down, and Malik berating the both of them, swearing the lot of them were all hapless fledglings.

"He's sleeping," Altair said, standing in Ezio's way but so the other man could clearly see over his shoulder into the room. Desmond's shape was an obvious form on his bed. "Just let him have his sleep before the entire flock shows up and makes enough racket to raise the dead," it wasn't often the flock was all together in one place. Like one actual small place. They all slept in the same area but usually Altair didn't see more than three other avians a day except when every two or three days everyone got together to groom. When they did it was like a circus was in town.

"I'll let Ed and Haytham deal with Bill," though his feathers fluffed up saying that. He was angry that Bill had let it go on so long without putting Desmond through surgery. "I'm sure they'll both have some choice words for him." Especially Edward. He wasn't a man who got riled easily but when he did his black wings made him look like an avenging angel. Haytham was just as bad when angered. It wasn't in your interest to piss off the Kenways.

Connor was flapping about in the hall, as if he couldn't keep his own wings under control. It was really that Malik had one hand tight on the young man's hair to keep him from bowling down the door. Yusuf was getting the brunt of baby feathers, and he swore in Turkish at the both of them.

Ezio just laughed again. "I'll go find the elder Kenways. You get to deal with keeping little wolf from bowling down the door." He took the opportunity to slip out through his side of the bathroom.

Altair opened his mouth to reprimand Ezio, or at least ask him to stay, but no dice; Ezio was already gone. He frowned because even though they didn't knock he could hear the three men on the other side of the door, and smell them too. Connor was just losing his down, brown flying feathers replacing them after months of him jumping off the top of the compound trying to fly. Stupid kid. It also meant he was losing his fledgling smell, which was good because keeping an eye I'm Connor was like keeping an eye on a wolfhound.

Altair went over to the door and could hear Yusuf swearing at Connor. He opened the door and immediately put his hand out, catching Connor on the chest so he couldn't just barge into his room. "Hey," he said, mostly to the older men.

Connor frowned at Altair, trying to peek and push past him. "Come onnnn. Let me see Des," He grumbled, looking back at Malik to bat his hair free from his hand. He knew what Desmond was going through - especially the exhaustion afterward.

Malik was brushing feathers from his clothes. He was one of the few that actually wore shirts. Since his limp wing was amputated along with his arm, he didn't have as much of an issue putting a shirt on. They had been small wings anyway, nothing that he could glide on. He almost forced them to cut off the other wing, finding no use in having just one.

On the other hand, Yusuf kept himself in check. He was excited to see Desmond, but he'd been through the process once or twice already, there was no novelty that Connor was excited about. "Has anyone seen Rauf?" He asked, watching Ezio disappear down the hall.

"He's sleeping," Altair told Connor sternly, like that would satisfy the fledglings interest to see his friend. Connor was a but younger than Desmond but already had his wings, they came in at different ages for everyone, though usually closer to the end of puberty, and still didn't know how to not whap people with them by accident. He had been graceful before he got his wings, now he was just annoying.

More annoying.

"You can see him when he wakes up," which wouldn't be too long if Ezio had just gone to get the Kenways. Soon the rest of the flock would know and shut up and wanting to see their new little fledgling. "I've been at med basically since breakfast," he said as a way to answer Yusuf's question.

Connor sulked, and Yusuf took the pause to drag the boy off. "We're going to find Rauf," Yusuf told him, wings shuffling and folding tight behind him. The youngest of the group dragged his feet, his own wings drooping.

"You should delay waking him..." Malik reached for Altair's shoulder. "The boy looks like shit," he chuckled, slipping into Arabic. "Almost as bad as you." Back then, though, all of them looked pretty bad after their wings.

In the bed, Desmond shifted, mostly to free up his mouth to breathe better.

Elsewhere, Ezio had tracked down Ed and Haytham. He was sure they were aware of the latest addition to their flock, but he'd still let them know anyway. "He's asleep, but Bill won't be happy about it. Ezio's brows rose somewhat, the motion mimicked by a slight movement of his wings. "He looks even cuter than Connor, though." The teasing comment was light hearted - ever since he began spending more time with Yusuf, he made more jokes.

"Well until all the other idiots get here he can sleep," Altair said, speaking his mother tongue, "Kid showed up at my door last night begging for drugs like I was his dealer. Bill let it go on way too long," his wings rustler angrily even though he himself was in control. You couldn't always control your wings, sometimes they moved on emotional cues you couldn't control. Anger usually did that for Altair. "He's already starting to feather."

Edward frowned when he heard Desmond had come out of his surgery. "We'll deal with Bill," he said as Haytham's wings flicked in agitation. Haytham had just recently gone through Connor getting his wings, he was probably more irritated than most Bill would be so careless with his own son's health. "Not like he can do anything now anyway," since Desmond was part of his crew now, not Bill's.

Malik shook his head. "Do you trust the doctors' check?" He'd taken it upon himself to learn everything there was about their specific physiology. In short, Malik considered himself the Flock doctor. He sighed, single wing rustling. He had no love for the human doctors, even though they taught him quite a bit about medicine. Most of it was Malik spending time with his books, or speaking to Ziio about medicinal herbs.

Ezio nodded, feathers falling back into place. "I will find you when Desmond wakes." He ducked his head somewhat and backed off, knowing he would have enough time to grab some food before then. Either way, he supposed that the entire compound would be alive when the boy woke.

"They spent a good two hours going over his wings, making sure there were no infections or ingrown feathers," Altair said, and he'd watched them the entire time. They'd seemed to be extra extra thorough with a raptor avian watching them through the door. "He's Bill's kid, they wouldn't have fucked it up."

"Should we talk to Bill now, or later?" Edward asked his son.

"I would say now," Haytham said, "Let everyone else bother the boy right after now. We'll see him after," Haytham's wings were twitching a little, angry.

"Should I just do the talking?" Edward asked him, giving him a look. Haytham either needed to calm down or let Ed do it, since it wouldn't do him any good to get all riled up at Bill .

Bill was not happy at all to find out that Desmond had gone through the surgery without his knowing it. He had a lot of respect for their flock though, they were the ace of the Order, with feed and strength that human beings were hard pressed to match, especially when the global society collapsed. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, regarding the two avians. "When do I get to see him?" He finally asked, giving in to their authority on the matter.

In Altair's bed, Desmond shifted again, wings twitching. He made a low groaning noise, burying his face into the pillows completely. He'd be waking up soon.

Malik almost smiled. "Go on, I'll keep the others occupied, my Brother." He reached out for Altair's shoulder, briefly clapping him.

By the others, he meant Yusuf, Connor and Rauf, who he guessed would be turning back up at any moment, probably with Yusuf talking Rauf's ear off, and Connor in grumpy tow.

"We'll decide that once we see him," Ed told Bill. Avians were protective of their fledglings, even if they were nearly adults themselves. They weren't common, avians, and their flock was one of the largest in the world, so every one of them was important to their species surviving. As it was it was amazing Desmond had been born one, there hadn't been an avian in his family in five generations on his mother's side. Lucky genetics had seen the recessive gene expressed. "Till then and he gets his own room he'll be staying with one of us. We'll let you know when you can see him again."

"Just try and keep them quiet at least for a few more minutes. He literally just came out of surgery," Altair said to Malik before he left. He closed the door and went back over to his bed where Desmond was all spread out on it like he was determined to take up every inch of space on the bed he possibly could. He sat next to him and looked down at Desmond's wings. After a moment he reached out and ran his hand across them. They were skinny and bony, the muscles mainly on his shoulders and chest. He'd have to exercise them to get them to be strong enough to move them as he willed them. They twitched when he touched them, bones and sinew flexing and Desmond made a noise in his sleep.

Desmond's wings pushed against Altair's hand, responding to the touch in a way that was unconsciously controlled. He seemed to let out a low trilling noise, but the sound stopped the moment he moved again. The feathers looked like little puffs of Q-tips, continuing to grow even while he had been sleeping.

He began to rouse, brows furrowing against the light. Desmond groaned, immediately disliking the brightness of the room.

"It's good you're waking," Altair said, taking his hand off Desmond's wing. Within a few days they'd be covered in a soft would start to grow. "The others have already showed up once trying to get in to see you," he told Desmond, one of his wings brushed against Desmond's back gently.

He grumbled, trying to burrow back into the pillows, but the more he tried to sleep, the faster it slipped from his grasp. Desmond gave in and cracked open one eye. The soft touch of Altair's feathers coaxed him back to complete consciousness.

"Al... ty?" He hadn't called him that since he was really young. Desmond blinked, rolling onto his side so he could rub his face.

"Who else would it be, honestly?" Altair snorted. "How do you feel? And don't say like shit you just had your wings taken out, you'll feel like shit."

Desmond pushed himself up completely, getting off of his wing completely. "I... not as tired but still really tired." He didn't actually feel that bad. Sore, sure, but the pain was nothing compared to before the wings came out.

He sat back, the limbs still twitching to promote blood flow and strength in the young muscles.

"Good," Altair said, "You haven't been out very long, but you did get a full night of sleep once you came here at least," his wings sagged a little in relief before moving so one circles around Desmond. "The rest of the flock'll show back up soon, so you might want to prepare yourself," he sighed, his wings brushing Desmond's back and new featherless limbs.

He reached up, touching Altair's feathers. "What do you mean prepare myself...?" Desmond glanced at the door, and then back at Altair. His wings took on a nervous twitch which calmed when he felt the larger wings encircling him.

"We'll they'll be excited, mainly," Altair said. It wasn't like Desmond didn't know who the flock was, the entire compound knew them. It was hard to overlook them after all, they were humans with wings. "And probably angry when I tell them your dad let you go far enough to feather," he brushed his feathers against Desmond's barely budding wings. Both of his wings had come up now, to circle around Desmond, helping to block out the light. Altair didn't even realize he was doing it honestly. Instinct was driven by the smell to protect a newly winged avian. He couldn't help himself. "I know there's been talk already what yours will look like once you molt," he grinned and tapped Desmond's chin.

Desmond snorted. "Connor won't tackle me, will he? Is that what you're saying?" His smile fell a little when Altair brought up Bill and how long it had taken. He shook his head slightly. "I didn't... I didn't want it to happen." Why he hadn't wanted the wings then was something he could hardly believe, even for himself. "I lied about it, I don't know, I thought I could ignore it or something, that they'd all just leave me alone and I wouldn't have this..." Desmond gestured uselessly with his hands, wings extending somewhat while he did so. "This... prophecy or whatever to live up to. It was stupid."

He covered his face, mostly naked wings drawing close to his body as he turned away from Altair's hand, still mulling over the things Altair had said. Honestly, he had no idea why he just let everything out like that when the only mention of fault was vaguely pointed toward his father. Was he feeling like he had to defend him even if he didn't really like the man? Desmond peered up at Altair after a while, blinking a little dumbly.

Altair could honestly say he had no idea /what/ Desmond was talking about. He knew that Bill pushed Desmond harder and that he was allowed to because he wasn't one of them yet and the Kenways couldn't interfere until Desmond's wings sprouted. Altair frowned at Desmond in confusion. "What?" He asked, his wings fanning out, underling from around Desmond. "What prophesy, what the hell has Bill been doing?" Something told him he wasn't going to like what he was going to hear.

Desmond made a slight face and looked away, but he did respond. "The Apple, and all of that other past-future tech, or whatever. The stuff left behind by the creepy space assholes...?" He fidgeted. "Remember how I could open the door even when Connor couldn't? I mean, we both unlocked Eagle Vision at the same time... but the door, the lock in the archives, I dunno, I just opened it, no problem. God, I was so little, it was so stupid, thinking back on it. Why in the hell did I ever show anything to Bill...?"

At the time, he hadn't had words for the tests Bill ran, but they were all manner of things. Genetics, brain activity. Desmond sighed. "I've got all this stuff that I'm supposed to be able to do, and I think I do know how I'm supposed to do it, but I'm just too stupid to actually do any of it."

Or he got older and figured out that doing all of those things meant he had to stay inside all the time while everyone else went outside, and simply stopped doing it.

Altair still felt lost. He wasn't used to feeling like this. He was third under Haytham in the hierarchy, he knew shit, knew the going on of what happened in the compound too. But right now he was just... Confused. He didn't like the feeling at all. "You just wait right here, I'll be back in a few minutes," and he got up from the bed. His wingtips brushed against Desmond briefly before folding up.

When he left the room he saw Malik dealing with the others a bit down the hall. They all heard him open the door and looked as he stepped out. "He's awake, you can see him. I'm going to find the Kenways. Just don't kill him Connor," and he left, cause that was all he really had to say. The others would keep Connor in check.

Desmond didn't really like it when Altair drew back to leave. He frowned, preferring not to wait right there, but the moment he left, Connor squeezed into the room - much to Malik's irritation - and threw his arms around his friend. The impact was surprisingly light, and Connor was somehow mindful of Desmond's new wings.

"Aaah, you're already feathering? Lucky." He gave the newest fledgeling a lopsided grin, and spread his own molting wings a little to show off the feathers that were growing in.

A little detached from the smile on his own face, Desmond snorted. "Connor, you're hugging me." He let the younger man's arms fall away, and turned his attention to the new, harder feathers that were growing in through Connor's fluffy downy ones.

Malik was quick to berate him, of course complaining about the feathers now strewn across Altair's room. His dark, mottled wing darted out from behind his shoulder to smack the youngest Kenway across the back of the head, and Desmond couldn't help but laugh at it.

Yusuf's excitement got the better of him and he dragged Rauf into the room, nearly losing iridescent blue feathers in the process. He wedged himself in beside Connor and grabbed Desmond's face in his hands, a huge, warm smile across his face. "Look at our new little chick! Welcome, Desmond, don't look so sad." His smile grew a little sly as he uncannily hit close to home. Yusuf may not have Eagle Vision, but he had a very good grasp of other's emotions.

The slyness faded as quickly as it came, and he tapped Desmond's nose. "Smile like you mean it, my friend!"

Ezio ran into Altair somewhere between the mess hall and the Avian quarters. "Seeing you down here, I assume Desmond woke up, and you're going to find Ed and Haytham?" He didn't wait for a response, just gently clapped Altair's shoulder. "Ah, that's good, I'll just head up to see him then," Ezio continued with his trademark congenial smile. With a rustle of his wings, he moved aside and continued toward their quarters.

Altair found the Kenways as they were leaving the area where Bill has his office. "Altair, what are you doing here?" Haytham asked, they both knew Altair didn't like associating with humans unless he had to. As it was he rarely left the avian wing unless it was to eat, train, or fly.

Altair looked at them, looked at the door and back to them. "You're going to want to talk to Desmond," he said. "He said something... Troubling."

"Like what?" and Haytham's wings moved a little, showing his unease.

"You're just going to want to talk to him," Altair said and when his eyes went to Bill's door again the Kenways turned to look as well.

"Ah," Haytham said, "Well, let's go talk to the new kid shall we?" Altair followed after Haytham and Edward as they headed for the avian wing.

"Yusuf, let the kid breathe," Rauf said, he was standing next to Malik. "Honestly it's like you've never seen a new avian in your life," though he also found it amusing, how easily his Yusuf got excited. Not to mention that Connor actually seemed so as well.

Yusuf glanced back at Rauf and made a face at him. He relented, though, and gave Desmond more space.

Connor finished extracting himself from Desmond, clearing his throat somewhat. He folded his wings to sit at the edge of the bed beside him, gently picking through the growing feathers, preening them in a way he had found eased the itching. Desmond was clearly thankful for it.

Ezio arrived, taking to leaning against the wall to remain slightly removed from Desmond's space. He could only imagine how overwhelming it was with the growing ranks of their flock - there had only been four others when he became one of them, but now they were nearly ten strong.


	3. Keyless Entry

It took the three of them a few minutes to get back to the avian wing. Haytham had had to be convinced not to go feed Bill his teeth after Altair told them the situation, and that Desmond had started to feather already. Haytham wasn't an easy guy to get totally calm once he was a bit riled, but Altair and Edward managed.

The smell of fledglings coming from Altair's room was pretty much overpowering. Desmond was in there and no doubt Connor was too, doubling the smell and resource to any other avian. When Altair opened the door he found nearly half the flock on his bed. And of course the open door drew attention to them. "This is the last time I wanna see that many half naked men on my bed," Altair said. Edward held back a laugh, Rauf however did not.

Yusuf, like Rauf beside him, did not bother to keep his laughter to himself. "I thought you made no jokes. Maybe I am rubbing off on you." He offered a smile to the older members of the flock which faltered somewhat. The slight air of tight-lipped anger wasn't lost on him. "And we're leaving all of that nonsense at the door, right?"

Wings twitching, Desmond straightened up a bit when he saw Altair. Twitching was putting the movement lightly - he pretty much battered Connor's face, and the both of them flinched. Connor more surprised and Desmond more sheepish. It at least got them to settle a bit, although Desmond's half-grown feathers were flared out. When he noticed, he could not get them to lie flat which only served to embarrass him further.

Malik only tutted under his breath at the display. You put wings on a pair of nineteen-year-olds and they're reduced to floundering children once more.

"Nonsense?" Edward asked "What nonsense?" He looked at his son, who was predictably rolling his eyes. Haytham had the patience of a saint to have a father like Edward. That or just repeated hit his head against a wall. Altair wasn't quite sure which. "We're here to see the new kid," though of course everyone knew Desmond.

Desmond blinked, not understanding the exchange. He felt alright though, like he was actually home. "Uh. Hi guys." It wasn't as if he could say there was nothing to see. He had just sprouted a pair of wings. They shuffled and folded behind him, betraying his nervousness. His eyes flicked between Altair and the older Kenways, and then down to his lap.

Connor tipped his head, watching his father. He smiled a little, despite himself, at his grandfather. His fingers laced and he folded his hands in his lap to keep himself from preening Desmond. He was aware that it was instinct to, and rarely inhibited his instincts when it came to the Avian side, so it was a slight struggle for him.

Malik stood aside, though he was amused enough, it did not show on his face.

Altair closed the door as they walked over to the bed, clearly unhappy Connor and Yusuf had decided they could perch on it. Altair's bed was a personal space. "How you feeling?" Edward asked him.

Yusuf did stand when Altair neared, that in itself a kind of apology. Connor was impervious to the situation, and remained beside Desmond. They were best friends, and had been for a long time, and he was going to stay there unless he was told to move. His obstinance was wordless.

"I'm fine," Desmond responded, taking a breath as he was finally able to get his feathers to lay flat. "A little warm since everyone decided to show up... and really, really itchy." He'd been afraid to touch his wings to soothe the itch himself, and wasn't quite sure what Connor had been doing earlier. He was pretty much sitting on his hands.

Edward snorted, "Then maybe we should give you some breathing room eh? I'm sure Altair is thrilled all of you are in here, breathing his personal air," and Altair scowled as if his displeasure of his room having become a circus performance wasn't clear enough. He didn't like people in his room. He especially didn't like nearly a dozen people in his room. "Honestly, everyone so interested in seeing the new fledgling didn't even give him a time to shower or anything," and if that didn't make it obvious to the others nothing would. Thankfully most of the flock was smart enough to get that they needed to leave, for whatever reason.

"C'mon you," Rauf grabbed Yusuf's hand, "I want lunch before they put it all away," and he didn't really give Yusuf an option, just sort of expected him to come along. Not that Yusuf wouldn't, they practically we're attached at the hip.

Yusuf tagged along behind Rauf, and ended up roping Ezio along with him too, although he split off for his own room since he had eaten earlier. "I didn't realize I was so hungry," he admitted in the hall.

Connor's wings sagged as he slouched. "I'll see you later," he said quietly, letting himself be more or less herded out of the room by Malik. If Altair didn't like this many people in his room, he shouldn't have kept Desmond there in the first place.

"Should I have? Showered, I mean." His gaze snapped back to Edward after Connor and Malik disappeared through the door. All things considered, Desmond did feel particularly grody.

Edward shrugged, his long, black, wings ruffling a little. "If you want, we'll wait," he said.

"I'll give you guys some privacy," Altair said and made his way to the door.

Desmond bit the inside of his cheek, watching Altair. "... Wait. Just gimme a sec, okay?" He stumbled a bit when he stood and rushed for the shared bathroom. "You better not leave." From the doorway to the bathroom, he stared at Altair before disappearing to shower, a flurry of awkward young wings.

He tried to take a quick shower, he really did, but feeling the water on his wings was way too strange to just dismiss. The fluffy bits of feather just soaked up the water, and he quickly learned that the weight would be incredibly uncomfortable if he got them wet with actual feathers, especially downy ones like he was growing. Desmond spent awhile trying to figure out how to move them a little better, and got a few good hits against the wall for his effort before managing to operate them with some finesse.

Turning back into the spray, he rinsed himself off and shook out his wings. It certainly eased the itching, but Desmond had learned rather quickly why most birds seemed to prefer dust baths to wet ones. He also found out that he was growing feathers across the space between his wings, and a lot of the skin had already been replaced.

He came out of the bathroom with a borrowed towel - it smelled like Altair, so he assumed it was one he could use - on his head, and his jeans pulled back up over his hips. Desmond had wished briefly for a clean pair, but he made do with what he had.

Haytham and Edward looked at Altair when Desmond left, Altair just furrowed his brow. "So what should we expect?" Haytham asked Altair as they heard the shower start.

"Bill is up to something," Altair said. "I came and got you instead of asking questions, so we could do it once instead of two or three times. It's something about Those Who Came Before and the archive."

Edward sucked his teeth, "Yeah, that doesn't sound good," he agreed. He and Haytham sat in some of the chairs in Altair's room while he sat on the bed. "He been here since he got out of surgery?"

"Yeah, I was practically the first person who saw him. I assume Bill's been told by now?"

"He has. He wants to see Desmond now," Haytham said and Altair's eyes narrowed. He didn't want anyone not avian near Desmond. He knew most of the flock probably felt the same. They'd wait until all his baby feathers had come in before they let Bill see his son.

"He can wait, just like everyone else," Altair said.

Edward chuckled, "That is pretty much what we told him." They waited for Desmond come out, Altair about to get up when they heard wings thump against the shower wall, Haytham just told him to sit. Altair picked at his feathers a bit while they waited, cleaning them. Then the door opened and Desmond came out, very nearly dripping, his nearly naked wings shiny with water.  
He stood in the doorway for a moment, head canted slightly. Desmond tugged the towel off of his head after drying his short hair. "I didn't mean to take that long." He tried to pass a smile as he moved toward the bed to sit beside Altair.

"So I have to tell you too?" Desmond asked, half folding the damp towel in his lap.  
"Well we aren't quite sure what it is you need to tell us," Haytham said, giving Altair a look as he moved over to give Desmond room at the end of the bed. "I think you should start with your father."

Desmond fidgeted. "I'm not sure what you want to know. He just had me do a bunch of different kinds of things, the regular training on top of the Avian stuff." His wings folded a little tighter. "It started when I could open the door to this side of the compound, I guess. Bill suddenly took an interest."

"We'll of course you could open the door," Haytham said, "You're avian, with or without wings. Did you father seem to forget that just because they hadn't come in yet?"

"And what sort of stuff did he make you do?" Edward asked. Altair felt a bit bad for Desmond, the Kenways could be intimidating. "You make it sound like he was testing you. What was he doing?"

"Yeah, well... when you haven't had Avian blood in your family for decades... Could Connor open the door before his wings?" Desmond couldn't really remember. "I got into the archives too, where the artifacts are. I don't know, it was quiet there, and I knew Bill couldn't get in there. I still don't know why I showed him."

That surprised everyone, "Wait, you got into the archive?" Altair asked. Only certain people could get in there without a key, and Desmond definitely did not have a key.

"And you showed your father?" Haytham asked. Non avians weren't normally allowed in the archive which housed the pieces of Eden. They had a sort of siren song to them that humans were horribly susceptible to. Avians were able to resist the desire to pick up and use the artifacts the way humans couldn't. So for good reason the archive was restricted to humans unless one of the flock was with them, to open the doors, and watch them.

Desmond glanced at Altair, then looked away, every ounce avoidant. He nodded slowly. "I... told him I could open the doors." He had always thought that the Pieces were so lonely and sad. The feeling lessened as he got older, before he learned what they were capable of, what people had done with them in the past. Still, he could never shake the loneliness.

It wasn't much, but his wings unfolded enough to kind of curve around his shoulders.  
"I showed him, or... well he found me leaving the room. I was a kid, I didn't know, other than the fact that no one else really should be in there. And since I hated all that training crap, I just hid out in there a lot." Whether or not Bill had actually seen Desmond leaving the sealed room, there were plenty of cameras and security feeds, he would have been found out one way or another.

"Did he ever go in there with you? Can you still open the door?" Haytham asked. He knew that as children avians could do all sorts of things they couldn't as fully grown adults. Like sing like birds, Connor had been able to speak to birds. He'd lost the ability as he got older, but Haytham would never forget his son telling him what one of the wild pigeons who lived around the compound was saying.

He shook his head again. "No, he didn't go in with me." Desmond hesitated when it came to the second question. "I think I can. Last time I went in there, I was... fifteen? I mean, I thought they were just singing, making noises that weren't words. It got creepy when I realized they were words, I didn't understand, but I was pretty sure they were talking."

The three of them looked at each other, "Singing?" Edward asked carefully. "What do you mean singing?" Of the flock he went into the archive the most. He had the key. He'd been in the room with the artifacts and they always crepes him out. They were also silent. He'd never heard them sing, he usually refrained from touching them if he could help it.

"Uh, yeah. Singing." Desmond didn't look as unsure as he felt. He knew the songs, he still remembered them, used to sing them back, even. "I don't really know how to explain it other than that."

He rubbed his arms, finding his lap incredibly interesting. "I guess Bill wanted more sway... I mean, they don't really have anything to do with what goes on with the flock."

"So he wanted you to open the archive for him?" Haytham asked and his wings flared outward angrily, his feathers puffing our to make him and them look bigger and more intimidating. "What else did he want you to do before he lost his hold on you?"

Desmond's shoulders rose somewhat, wings following suit. "I never opened the archive for him. I think he wanted a say with the flock, he wanted to be there when I woke up."  
"Good," Haytham said.

Edward was pensive, "Well he'll be able to see you once your down has come in," he said. "Altair watch him till then."

"Ed, I have stuff to do," he tried to protest.

"It can wait a few days," Edward rolled his eyes at him. He made a face and looked at his son, "Anything you'd like the add?" he asked.

"No," Haytham said, eyeing Desmond. "Though I do have some words for Bill and his stupidity," his eyes going to Desmond's wings, making his frown deepen.

"Look, I really don't want to get in the way of anything-" He tucked his wings close, shying away somewhat from Haytham. He opened his mouth as if to defend Bill, but closed it with a huffing sigh. It wasn't worth it.

Desmond looked toward Altair, not liking the notion he'd be a burden. "I don't really want to see him," he said slowly. "But if I have to, I'll see him out there, not here." He didn't want Bill in here, or anywhere in the Avian quarters.

"If you don't want to you don't have to," Edward said, "You're one of us now, and no one tells my flock what to do-

"Except you," Altair muttered.

"We'll obviously Altair. I am the one in charge. You can bicker with Haytham about it when I die if you want," Edward didn't even seem bothered talking like that, though Altair made an apologetic face. "C'mon boy," he said to Haytham and with a groan of someone his age Edward got out of his chair. "Keep an eye on him," Edward added to Altair as he and Haytham left.

Altair looked over at Desmond and rose his brows at him.

Desmond's head tipped somewhat. "What." His brows furrowed in contrast, but the next few moments had him trying to quell the itching of his wings. Through all of that, his feathers were still wet but definitely taking their sweet time drying.

Altair huffed a sigh and got up from the bed. "That'll be the last time you take a shower like that until your flight wings come in," Altair said, going over to his closer and pulling out another towel. "Unless you want to walk around with wet wings for a few days, which is not something I recommend. Especially downy wings," his wings flared a bit to stabilize him as he kneeled on the bed behind Desmond and pressed the towel to his wet wing. "You can get mold and mildew in them if you aren't careful," his hands were gentle as he rubbed Desmond's wings to help get the water off.

"Yeah I... kind of figured that out... Noted, though." Desmond extended his wings and relaxed. "How long is it supposed to take? My first feathers, I mean." He twisted somewhat, trying to look back at Altair without moving too much.

"Few months maybe," Altair said, "Once your wings stop growing you'll molt," and oh that would be a joy. Nothing like avian down feathers everywhere. He already has some in here and Connor had only been in here a few minutes. "If they're small they'll take less time. Malik only had a few weeks till his molted," Altair's had taken months. But then he also had one of the largest wingspans of the flock.

Desmond sat normally again, letting his head hang. "I... have a feeling they won't be small," he muttered, propping his chin up in his hand. "What's all the stuff you said you had to do?

Watching me won't get in the way, will it?" He didn't even question the idea of being watched or practically chaperoned. It didn't matter, it was Altair, and he liked Altair plenty.

"Just some stuff, don't worry about it," Altair sighed. It was mostly housekeeping bull shit anyway and dealing with humans. Altair's favorite thing: dealing with humans. "You can just stay in here or your room if I don't drag you along."

"My room's way too hot." He scowled off at the wall. "I'll just stay in here then... Although I guess I should say hi to Shaun and Rebecca at some point... Lucy, too." Desmond was just musing out loud now.

"Desmond... You'll get your own room in this part of the compound. You can set it whatever temperature you want," he reminded Desmond. Their wing had heaters honestly since the main temperature for their wing was nearly sixty degrees. Or in winter they just opened their windows. Very rarely did the avian wing close it's windows during the winter. Unless it was a blizzard usually.

Desmond made a face. "Fiiiine." He folded his wings back up, the small fluffy feathers between them prickling up before lying flat. "You're just trying to kick me out already."

"Don't be a baby," Altair rolled his eyes, "This is my room. And clearly you have no problem finding it if you need it," he took both towels and threw them into the hamper. "Now let's go to your old room and pack up your stuff. You can pick one of the empty rooms here once we do," Altair said, going to the door, clearly leaving no place for Desmond to argue.

Even if he had no room to argue, he'd gripe about it along the way, not that he meant it completely. Desmond felt strange walking back to his room. He kept his wings folded against his back as if that would make their half feathered state any less obvious.

Packing his things went pretty quickly. Clothes, shoes, soap - Desmond just stuffed everything that was clean into one bag. He dropped his jeans, and tugged on a pair of sweats in their place before tossing the jeans in with his satchel of dirty clothes.

Desmond very nearly just slung the bags over his shoulder. He just barely remembered to draw his wing out of the way. It was a slow process, but he was becoming spatially aware of the limbs now, tucking them a bit more through doors and when passing in the halls.

"See, not so bad," Altair said as they left Desmond's room. Altair had an annoying time getting in, since the doorway was small, the ones in their wing we're a little bit wider. He always had an annoying time getting into any door made for a human, some of his feathers always touched. "I'll drop you off at your room and you can settle in till dinner," which wasn't that far off now since it had taken a few hours to clear out and clean up Desmond's room.

"Sure." Desmond left things in his old room that he didn't care for - they'd all be disposed of anyway if he didn't take them. He did tuck his pillow under his arm before leaving though.  
His new room wasn't too different from the last one. The bed was definitely more than a shitty little twin, though, and he actually had an open-able window. Desmond dropped his things on the bed and immediately went for it, just to push the panes open and lean on the sill.

Even though he knew he definitely couldn't fly, not with his wings like this, they rose a little, q-tip feathers spreading slightly when a gust of wind made it through the window. It was warm air, but Desmond didn't give a crap. He just wished he could fit through the window so he could climb to the top of the compound from there. Of course, there was no advantage to that, he just kind of wanted to be able to go outside.

"Don't fall out the window," Altair said, "I don't want to have to explain to Ed that you tried to fly before your feathers came in." It wasn't a long fall, but it's still hurt. Altair knew he'd be able to catch himself if he happened to fall out, so he didn't do something stupid and land on his back. Desmond wasn't that bodily aware yet though.

Desmond snorted. "I'm not. It just feels really nice... you know?" He closed his eyes, head ducking to rest on the sill between his elbows as he felt his wings open in a wide 'V'. If these tiny breaths of air on his feathers made him this calm and happy, he couldn't imagine what flying would be like.

Rather than get up to look back at Altair, he just swung his hips to the side. "I thought you were just dropping me off?" His neck hurt from craning to see him from the decidedly awkward angle and he straightened himself back up, wings folding a little easier.

"I am," Altair said, his eyes going back up to Desmond's face instead of where they shouldn't have been. "Me or someone else will come get you for dinner."

He turned away from the window, crossing the room. "Should be you," Desmond said with half a smile, and then busied himself with unpacking and putting away his things.

From the amount of feathers in the bathroom, he figured he shared it with Connor. He supposed it was only fair, he was the 'youngest.'


	4. Better Left Unsaid

Altair knocked on Desmond's door. In the past few days his down had come out and his wings were made of soft, fluffy, gray feathers. So far they'd just worried about them coming in, but as he'd told Desmond the first day; you couldn't really shower with them. Desmond had missed the last time the flock had groomed each other, because he didn't really have any feathers to groom. But they were doing it tomorrow and no doubt it would take a while to get his fluffy wings clean if he wasn't doing it himself a little each day like the rest of them. Thing was was that wing grooming wasn't something you just knew, you needed to learn how to do it, and avians only let other avians and humans they trusted close enough to groom their wings for them. Altair had mentioned it to Ed and without missing a beat the flock leader had said, 'then you teach him' and that had been the end of that. So now Altair was here, knocking on Desmond's door.

He knew it was Altair at his door before even opening it. He'd learned things like the mannerisms, sounds, and even scents of the rest of the flock. Desmond stood in the doorway with wings that were way too fluffy for their own good. He felt like he had poseable cotton balls extruding from his back, and he had no idea how to keep them clean other than... not get them dirty.  
Since the feathers coming in, he'd had one incident where they had gotten soaked. It was Connor's fault, and he made him help dry them off. Although convincing any of the rest of the flock to do things for him was a lot easier than when he'd been a kid (he had no idea about the fledgeling scent).

"I heard you were supposed to teach me how to clean these?" Of course, Connor had heard and told him.

"Do not look so happy about it," Altair said. He could already foresee himself covered in down feathers by the time this was over. "But yeah, I am," he didn't bother to ask how Desmond knew. Once something happened to someone in the flock /everyone/ found out eventually. Rauf and Yusuf had kept being together to themselves all of about five hours before everyone knew. It wasn't that you couldn't have secrets, it was just that it was so easy everyone to know.

"Just because you aren't happy about it doesn't mean I can't be." Desmond grinned, moving aside for him. He went straight for his bed and plunked himself down right in the middle of it, wings half spread. Understanding the concept was easy. Knowing how to do it was a different issue entirely. Unless the flock didn't mind a couple of pinched feathers while Desmond bumbled his way through figuring it out on his own.

Altair say down with a grunt next to and a bit behind Desmond and tugged the down covered wing into his lap, very short of manhandling it. "It's kinda like brushing your hair with your fingers," Altair said and started to run his fingers through Desmond's soft feathers. "Your feathers don't really let dirt cling to them, but they will get dirt down in them. Once your flight feathers come in," Altair expanded his wings, like he needed to remind Desmond how great they were, "you can get them wet again, at least a little bit. Unless you have wings like Ed who has wings like a water fowl."

It did feel almost like hands and fingers in his hair, albeit the feathers were much larger than his hair follicles, and each could move almost independently. That was something that would take some getting used to. He could flex the primaries out and ruffle them on cue, but getting them back into place was definitely easier said than done.

Desmond angled himself so he could see what Altair was doing. It wasn't long until his fingers itched to comb through Altair's feathers, and when they were opened up, he took it as an invitation and began to mimic him.

Desmond's wings had grown substantially over the few days his first feathers grew in, making up for size what they had been delayed in time. "Will they stop growing when I molt?" he asked, glancing up at Altair's face.

"Your wings? Yes, just like birds our first molt is when our wings are at their full length," Altair said and moved his wing a bit so Desmond could pick through it with greater ease. "You also want to be on the lookout for crooked feathers, or loose ones. Just tug out the loose ones if you can and make the crooked ones lay the same direction as the others," he removed his hand from Desmond's fluff and came away with four little down feathers he knew Desmond hadn't even felt him pull out.

He binked at the four feathers that looked more like fluff, finding it amusing that he hadn't even felt it. Desmond kept preening Altair, careful as he picked through the feathers. He was hesitant when he thought he found a loose one. Eventually, he just tugged it out, turning it over in his hands.

Desmond hadn't had one of Altair's feathers in a long time. "They're different," he said, tracing the vein with his finger. "Different than I remember them, at least."

"Eh," Altair shrugged, "Some lose pigment sometimes, or change with the season a bit," he now had a handful of fluffy down. "Rauf's turn a bit red during autumn, we aren't sure why. As you get older, or sick or anything really. You spend enough time with us you really get to see how the colors may change," he picked the feather out of Desmond's hand. "This one is old," he said and then put it down.

Desmond spread his wings further and scooted closer to Altair, fully intending to keep preening. He ended up just tracing feathers. "So yours change with the season too?"

Honestly, it was incredibly calming to have his wings cleaned like this. Not too far from gentle scratching at his scalp, but without the awkwardness. He certainly liked it, but he wasn't sure how much of it was just Altair.

"A little," Altair shrugged a bit, "they get a bit duller during winter," he flapped them a little, blowing the feathers he'd pulled out away, not that he cared, they were in Desmond's room, and it was his responsibility to clean up. "You also need to groom yourself between the flock grooming days," he added, "otherwise we'll literally be here all day at this," he sighed, and he tucked his wings back up behind him as best he could, and even then they still didn't.

He startled somewhat when Altair flapped, ducking somewhat. Desmond shuffled his own wings, one or two more feathers falling from them. "And preening me is that bad?" He took a look around. "Oh. Yeah I guess it makes a mess," he said, answering himself with a sheepish grin. "Come on, though, you know you wanna bury your face in these. They're pretty fucking soft."  
Desmond's grin became a wry smile.

Altair chuckled, "It's just a pain," Altair said and tapped Desmond on the head with the apex of his wing. "And you can't rely on the flock to clean your wings for you. You need to be able to do it yourself."

Desmond batted at Altair's wing with his hand. "I know, I know. It's just nice when you do it." He had no other experience to compare it to, but the words came either way. He began picking up the feathers strewn across his bed.

"So... what, I'm supposed to show up when? For the massive flock preening deal?"

"It's after dinner tomorrow," Altair said, "we take a few hours to get all the parts we can't get on our own. Like on the back, and the shoulders, and the parts close to our bodies," Altair ran his fingers through those parts of Desmond's fluffy wings.

His back straightened considerably when Altair reached the collection of feathers across the short expanse of his back between his wings. They fluffed out, and he made an embarrassingly high pitched noise. Desmond refused to call it anything close to a chirp. He had also ended up crushing the feathers in his hand.

Altair laughed again, "Which is why you need to clean your wings as best you can by yourself. We'll get what you can't," he carded his fingers through Desmond's feathers on his back easily, amused by the little chirp Desmond had just made.

Desmond clearly had little clue exactly what sounds he could make, or the extent of them. As embarrassing as they were, similar but softer sounds kept coming. He glared at Altair, half-hearted. Not once did he ever want or even think to tell him to stop.

He interrupted the noise by sucking in a breath. "What... are you doing?" Desmond still hadn't gotten rid of the feathers, and his wings twitched open somewhat.

"Just grooming. You ticklish?" he asked with a little grin. "Honestly I haven't seen anyone chirp since Yusuf got his wings." He ruffled Desmond's fluff affectionately.

Desmond wished it was that he was only ticklish. "Guess so," he muttered, and even though he expected the trilling chirp, it still managed to make it out of his mouth. His face was positively red, and the way his wings rose about his shoulders made his chagrin just as clear.

"I really don't think I can do anything about it." His protest was lost. "You almost treat me better now than when I was a kid, Alty. When're you gonna admit you like me more than anybody else?" Desmond hid behind prodding jokes and vague sarcasm.

"Heh," Altair took his hands off Desmond realizing maybe he was being a bit too touchy feely. He couldn't help it. He was in a closed room with a fledgling. Desmond was literally all Altair could smell. Damn fledgling scent. "Don't get used to it," Altair said.

"Don't stop-" The words tumbled out of his mouth, and a few things happened rather quickly after that. Desmond's wings shuffled, rising with his shoulders. He also froze, throat working silently. Oh God, he wanted to die.

Desmond flinched, prematurely expecting Altair to respond with an insult with nervous apologies already on his lips. He came pretty damn close to hitting Altair with his wings, just short of flapping them nervously.

So maybe he didn't want to die, exactly, but he did wish it wasn't so obvious that he wanted the older Avian manhandling the literal fuck out of him.

Altair leaned back when Desmond lost control of his wings and they moved erratically. He grabbed one and pressed it down, "What's into you?" he asked, holding onto the wing so it didn't bat him in the face.

Desmond practically snorted. "What's into me?" He parroted Altair, turning toward him. "Maybe I've spent the last five years wishing I was older, and I am, and you're treating me... like a child and I don't really mind or want you to stop. Now I'm just wishing it was a little more..." He glanced pointedly away, still just as red. "Um. R. Cuz this is all kind of... PG, which is great but... not great."

No-no-no, he had to stop talking. At least before he made a complete and utter fool of himself.  
His wings relaxed, though the one Altair grabbed trembled.

Altair blinked at Desmond slowly. He didn't respond particularly quick to surprises, never really had. In action he could respond because it was a bodily reaction. But when it came to surprising involving people... He was just kinda slow. Also he admitted he could sometimes be socially retarded and didn't always get people. He thought Desmond was pretty clear though. He just sort of stared at Desmond, confused by what was going on really and why he was saying that. Altair treated Desmond like his kid brother in a way, and yeah he was protective of him but it was always... Platonic.

Altair was also usually blunt and to the point when it came to others. He wasn't subtle when he came to his relationships, he just how he was with them, and how he felt he should be with them. Truthfully he'd never thought of Desmond like that and suddenly didn't think of him like that now. "You what?" of course he knew what Desmond meant. It was more... why.

On the other hand, Desmond hadn't blinked, and the nictitating membrane slid across his eyes. At least he'd gone back to looking at Altair. He took a breath and seemed to hold it, brow furrowing as if he was struggling to find words. The truth was, they were there in his mouth, he just didn't feel ready to say them.

"Not gonna lie here, I think about you fucking me." And then he did, with a low rush of air.  
Desmond went for the simplest one, but it was far from the only thing he thought about. For a while, in the past, it had made it almost unbearably awkward to be anywhere near Altair, he would just be reminded, over and over. At first, it made him feel pretty guilty, since Altair really did treat him like a little brother, and in response to that, Desmond... had some pretty hard fantasies in his alone time.  
He got over the guilt, but that didn't ease his imagination.

Altair's mouth literally fell open at that. He didn't know how to react to that. How did you react to a kid you basically watched grow up tell you they wanted you to do bad things to them? He had no idea. He didn't even know where to start with processing that. Not to mention the fledgling scent which made everyone in the flock just naturally gravitate towards the newly winged avians. It had started to get better now that Connor was losing his down, but now they had two fledglings and it was just a bit ridiculous.

In his mind Altair saw a few options. The main one though was the most appealing. He just /did not/ want to deal with this right now, with Desmond looking at him like everything was normal. "I'll see you later. Clean your feathers for tomorrow," and then he slid off the bed and headed for the door, his wings tucked around him protectively.

"Shit- Alty, I didn't-" He sucked in his bottom lip, watching Altair retreat. With his wings up like that... Desmond had never seen him, or thought he could, look so insecure. "I'm sorry," he finally said, looking down at his hands, where he was worrying the loose feathers with his fingers.  
"It was out of line. I thought-" He shook his head a little. He wasn't thinking, that was the problem. "I'll... yeah. I'll see you later."

Desmond resumed the task of cleaning the loose feathers, even though he wanted Altair to stay. He kind of hated that he'd imprinted on him too, because he wanted to talk to him about it, wanted his company because that was just how that worked. And yeah, he was beating himself up over making it awkward, for even thinking it was a good idea to reveal that. He could've at least made it softer to approach, but outright saying that, it was like getting hit in the face with a load of bricks. He didn't think he could even bring himself to talk to Connor about it.


	5. Horse Pills

Ed's room never smelled like him. Avians were constantly in and out of the room and Ed was rarely in it. Instead Ed's room sort of smelled like the flock, which smelled safe. Ed wasn't in his room yet, but Rauf and Yusuf were, Rauf on his back on the floor while Yusuf ran his fingers through the underside of his matte gray feathers. Altair was the second one to arrive after dinner.

"I don't know why you two bother to come," Altair was only slightly serious. The two shared a room and their wings were always immaculate, meaning they groomed each other. They had no reason to come since there was never anything to clean.

"Because its fun of course," Rauf said and moved his wing to sort of point at Altair, "And because we like to bother you," he laughed.

"Trust me, you do that already as it is," Altair huffed and say on Ed's big bed.

Desmond hoped he didn't show up too late. He had mixed feelings about the entire thing. It wasn't that he had been trying to seclude himself from the flock during the day, but he was avoiding Altair somewhat. Connor hadn't even seen much of him, and they shared a bathroom.

He pushed open the door to Edward's room, and Connor came in quite soon after. Most of his young feathers were already replaced with flight-ready feathers, ranging from solid, neutral colors to banded cream and brown. Feathers enough for him to catch a bit of wind, but not enough to actually sustain a good glide.

Yusuf looked up once the newest member of the flock entered, offering Desmond a warm smile. "Don't be so nervous, there's no feather pulling here." He resumed his work with Rauf's feathers, although there was really nothing more to do with them. Still, preening him was something Yusuf greatly enjoyed, and flock preening was also a social gathering he would be loathe to miss. He could do without the nervous unease that Desmond brought with him.

Altair watched Desmond entered and his wings pissed themselves close to his back without his consent. He was still thinking about what Desmond had said and he sort of felt uncomfortable even looking at him. At least he could distract himself with the others, since he wasn't alone in a room with the fledgling.

"Ed does remember its tonight right?" Altair asked since Edward was the one who most often forgot flock grooming and more than once had walked into his full room and cursed so much Altair was sure he was going to catch on fire. Haytham said his 'aging father's memory was going' but you were risking your life saying that to his face.

Malik and Ezio showed up, somehow peaceable. Malik took up a space behind Altair as he usually did. It took him twice the time to preen another, and taking care of his own wing was awkward enough. "You are not usually so obvious," he said, preferring Arabic even though it was meant to be social. "Talk to me."  
Ezio appraised Desmond, picking at his wings. "We're going to make a mess of Ed's room for weeks still," he sighed, despite a smile. They all had to stay back and clean up the mess of downy feathers - rather, Haytham demanded they all pitch in, since they all, at one point, ended up preening Connor and contributing to the mess. "And I was hoping we were nearing the end of that."

Desmond puffed out his cheeks, feathers ruffling. "What, should I apologize?"

"Not if you do most of the cleaning, fratello." Ezio tousled Desmond's hair, and broke his awkward stance by offering to be the first for him to preen. Soon, Connor came to sit beside Desmond, coaxing out one of his wings to clean in turn. Usually, he waited for his father, and started with his, or helped with Ed's cormorant wings.

"So obvious what?" Altair asked in Arabic, surrendering one of his wings over to Malik. He knew Malik knew right where Aussie couldn't reach himself and always tended to that area first. Altair would get to Malik's wings once his were done since Malik's one wing was on the other side of his body and Altair couldn't reach very well.

Rauf got up from his back and wiggled over to Desmond though not too close. Only so many people could groom someone at once without it becoming cluttered. "We'll have to start you on exercises to help build up your wing muscles," he grinned at Desmond.

"You're uncomfortable, not even looking at Desmond. He won't look at you either." Well, he did, but when he glanced at Altair, he pretty much immediately looked away. Malik pressed the feathers back into place, and moved his wings so he could get to the feathers between the limb and his back.

Desmond glanced at Rauf. "I just get feathers everywhere..." He already had a handful of feathers that Connor was pushing into his lap. He folded up one wing when Connor moved to the other. Desmond, on the other hand, was still working on the same wing, a lot slower at preening Ezio.

Altair felt like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar at Malik's words. "Uh..." he said awkwardly.

"You'd be surprised," Rauf told Desmond, "Your feathers are coming out a lot because they're new. They'll be okay for exercises," mainly just Desmond wasn't getting out of exercising his wings.

Clearly Malik was waiting for Altair to say something. He had that knowing look on his gave. "He said something very... Troubling, to me," Altair said as the door opened and Haytham came in

"Alright, alright. I'll do your exercises, Rauf." Desmond moved on to the next wing, glad that Ezio wasn't finding his process painful. He was beginning to relax, mind numbing a bit as he continued to preen the wings before him. It was a repetitive task, and the smell of the flock lulled him.

Connor looked up at Haytham, pausing in his work. His wings lifted somewhat, and he turned his attention back to Desmond.

Malik tutted, moving on to the hard to reach parts of Altair's other wing. "Is that all you have to say? Um?" Altair was often short-worded, but never quite so wordless. He pulled a loose feather and reached over his shoulder to all but stuff it into his nose. "Something troubling. Ah. I can do worlds of help with that description."

He put the borrowed feather down, sitting back once more. Malik wouldn't really force Altair to tell him, but there really was nothing he could do without detail. "It must have been really bad to warrant this kind of avoidance." Malik was more concerned about whether they'd find a way past whatever difference they had. After all, Desmond had imprinted on Altair, and he couldn't imagine the stress of being unable to go to Altair if they couldn't figure it out. Altair was pretty notorious for holding grudges, and that worried Malik.

"If you can't tell me, I only hope you can figure this out. It will be pretty rough on the both of you."

Altair sighed, "It wasn't anything... Bad," he guessed, "Not like how I'm sure you're thinking. It was more... I don't know," he sighed, his wings drooping a little. "He told me he wanted to have a more... Intimate relationship," which was about as nice as he could put it. "I know he imprinted but... That doesn't mean that."

Unlike what bad supernatural stories would have you believe imprinting wasn't 'oh we're soul mates' sort of thing. It was more like when baby birds saw their mother for the first time, they tended to follow them around everywhere and just wanted to be around. It happened to avians when their wings came out and since usually another avian was the first thing they saw it was more of a survival mechanism so new avians could learn things they needed to know. Bill had wanted Desmond to imprint on him but Altair had been there instead.

Rauf grinned, "You don't get a choice in it kid. You've got training and supplements now, so your bones can keep up with the growth of you're wings."

Haytham looked down at his son before nudging him with his wing. Haytham didn't sit on the floor anymore. He was too old for that. He wanted Connor to get up

"Do you think you have babied him too much?" Malik had finished now, smoothing the last feathers back into place. He moved and spread his remaining wing, leaving space enough on the bed for Haytham and inexplicably, Connor as well.

Connor pushed himself to his feet. "Where is... Grandfather?" He let the feathers still in his hands fall. "Has he forgotten again?"

Yusuf pulled Desmond away from Ezio, and the kid looked up at him, confused and kind of covered in his own feathers once they were disturbed from his lap. He'd been keeping them well contained too... "What-?"

"You're too slow." Yusuf was smiling anyway. "It isn't like you are tending a wound, our wings are sturdy enough." He took Desmond's place, preening Ezio with nimble, practiced fingers. Before him, Ezio seemed to laugh at a quiet joke. "Ah, don't worry, you were doing fine, Desmond."

Desmond blinked, mouth hanging open somewhat. It was also the first time he'd seen Yusuf's wings completely, and they really were a sight. "-Oh." He ran a hand through his hair sheepishly, shoulders and wings raised while he looked at Rauf. "You mean those nasty, giant pills?" He grimaced. "They were really disgusting.

"What kind of training, exactly?" He asked, gaze flicking over to Altair and Malik. He just knew they were talking about him, and didn't like that he got the gist of their conversation without understanding a lick of Arabic. A small part of him supplied the amount of time he used to spend in the archive with the artifacts. Desmond forced his thoughts back to Rauf, hurriedly refocusing.

"He said he thought about me fucking him," Altair told Malik bluntly. "I don't know where babying comes into that train of thought," he started running his hands through Malik's feathers. Malik sometimes had a hard time keeping his one wing clean by himself. Altair knew how to do it though.

"He's meeting with Bill actually," Haytham told Connor as they sat a bit away from Altair and Malik on the bed. "And cursing him as best he can."

"Yes the big nasty ones," Rauf laughed. "They're full of calcium and vitamins and stuff to keep you healthy while you're wings grow in. You better be taking them. Or you'll end up with weak bones and shrink.

Malik twitched somewhat. "Sex? Not surprising." They had fooled around in the past, he wasn't exactly amazed. A lot of the flock seemed to have homosexual tendencies at least. He thought it was just a part of the reason why avians were so rare. After all, men didn't give birth, and female avians hadn't been documented in years. "You were always around for him, though. Growing up, learning about his own sexuality, growing wings in the middle of it all." He shook his head. "He might just grow out of it, but it is something the two of you cannot avoid." Reaching back, he patted Altair's knee.

Connor sat cross legged behind Haytham, preening his father's wings. "Oh." He was silent for a while. "Desmond's alright though, no harm done... really." He paid no mind to the quiet conversation next to them. Connor thought that it was a nice language to listen to, but he had less interest in learning Arabic. He was more keen on learning the Mohawk language from Ziio, or trying to figure out how he had understood the birds when he was younger. Never would Connor admit to the second, though, but Haytham had told him enough stories about how he used to tell him about the birds near the compound.

"I took them, yeah. No one told me they would taste that gross. I'd rather do circuit exercises than take more of them," Desmond muttered, crossing his arms. After a few moments, though, he began working on his own wings, caring for what he could reach.

"How come Yusuf's feathers are so bright?" He asked suddenly. Even he was trying to keep his mind off of Altair and Malik's conversation.

"That's just it," Altair grumbled. "I've been around him since like forever. I don't think I could think of him like that," honestly he didn't want to think about that at all. He didn't know what to do with Desmond now since he knew that.

Rauf grinned, "You aren't supposed to eat them idiot, just swallow them." Rauf looked at Yusuf and his kingfisher wings, "Cause I take good care of them," Rauf said and made a face at Yusuf. They both knew that without an extra set of hands Yusuf's gleaming wings would always be dirty from rough housing with Ezio.

"I did swallow them! I know how to take pills," Desmond grumbled indignantly. They still tasted disgusting. He scowled down at the wing half folded in his lap, unamused. A sigh had his expression relax, but it was an effort to keep his eyes down.

Malik withdrew his hand. There wasn't much more he could offer. "He'll understand you don't think of him that way, and he does understand that it isn't because of imprinting." He did not like seeing Altair this troubled. Altair wasn't the type to be troubled, much less let things get so deeply to him that they began to take root. "Do not make the mistake of ignoring it, it isn't like a broken finger."

Altair looked over at Desmond when he made an out burst and blinked then his brain caught up with what his ears had really just heard. Oh, good. Christ he was obviously thinking about it and it was uncomfortable as hell! "Its just been one day, Malik," Altair said. Barely one day really.

Rauf laughed at him again, "Then why can you taste them?" He asked, "You must be bad at swallowing."

Next to Malik Altair really wished they would stop talking about Desmond swallowing Christ he was going to need to leave.

Desmond glared at Rauf. "No one said they were that big! I swear those things were... for a horse or something."

"Knowing you, Altair, you'd decide it wasn't worth the effort to fix." Malik cast a sideways glance over his shoulder. It was really riling him up bad, especially since Rauf turned their conversation toward Desmond's ability, or inability to swallow pills. "You have the worst imagination," he muttered, more to himself than his friend.

Yusuf was probably the only one of the group that was enjoying the tension. Anything that ruffled Altair's feathers was amusement enough for him. Maybe he did feel a little bad, after all, it looked like it was really getting to him, whatever it was. He'd weasel it out of Rauf later if he had to.

"They are," and Rauf said it in such a way it was hard to tell if he was kidding or not. All he cared about was that he didn't have to take them anymore. He'd done his time, no more supplements for him.

"I am capable thanks," Altair grumbled at Malik. Then he turned his glare on Malik, "You're the one making me think about it," he hissed.

"What? No way, Rauf, really?" Desmond stared at him, shifting uncomfortably where he sat. "I mean, isn't that dangerous... or something?"

Malik snorted. "Oh? I suppose I am, but that was beyond..." He shook his head. "Things only scare you when they're true." He turned and prodded him, index finger jammed against his chest. "I'm not saying you're a dirty bastard, but I'm saying you're a really dirty bastard." He waved Altair off with his hand.

"Shoo, then. You've become more awkward than the fledglings." It was Malik's way of saying Altair could excuse himself for the sake of his pride.

Altair actually growled at Malik. "You're the one thinking about me doing it," but he did get up because fuck this guy. Not literally. But just... Fuck that guy. "So I assume Ed isn't coming?" Altair asked Haytham.

"If he can get away," Haytham said. He had amassed a large collection of Connor's down feathers in his lap, carefully picking at Connor's wings to reveal the brown flight feathers. "He's dealing with humans." Altair grimaced, yeah that kinda sucked.

Rauf had to cover his mouth, "Desmond. How are you not dead yet? You've got to be the most gullible person I've ever met. And Ezio is pretty damn gullible. Not even he believed me when I said they were house supplements."

Connor looked up when Altair suddenly switched back to English, and glanced at Desmond. He'd gotten Desmond to believe that the cafeteria pasta had earthworms in it, and wasn't that surprised when he believed Rauf about the pills. It didn't stop him from smirking down at his lap.

Malik had no response for Altair other than a shrug localized in his shoulders and wing. He moved himself to the edge of the bed, shaking out the feathered limb before folding it back up and making his own exit.

"That's... so not fair, Rauf. You did the whole serious thing, that's not fair." Desmond just knew Yusuf and Ezio were both laughing about it, and he saw Connor's self contained snickering. Despite himself, he looked to Altair, though he had no way of knowing whether or not he was laughing at it either. He was pretty embarrassed by it, even more so when he couldn't stop his wings from rising around him.

It was like he forgot how to deal with them when he really needed to, and whatever chance he had of playing it off was just multiplying the issue. At least Desmond kept his feathers down, but he basically buried himself in the task of preening himself after that.

"Ah don't feel so bad kid," Rauf patted his knee, "Ezio fell for one just as bad."

"Did you need something Altair?" Haytham asked.

Affair frowned at Haytham and Connor a second, "No," he said, since Haytham didn't like being bothered when he had his hands on Connor's wings. "I'll see you at breakfast," he sighed and turned to the others, he hasn't been listening to their conversation and wondered why Desmond looked so embarrassed. If Rauf's face was any indication Altair bet it had something to do with him.

"Lay off Rauf," was all Altair said, "Kid's had his wings less than a week, no need to traumatize him."

"I wasn't," Rauf cried.

"Yeah yeah, just be nice," Altair waved him off and headed for the door.

If his face was a little pink when Altair rather offhandedly defended him in the way Altair usually did - without much feeling - it got pretty damn red when Desmond realized he didn't really feel like staying there when Altair wasn't. He did, though. Or rather, forced himself to sit there. "It's fine, yeah. It was pretty stupid of me anyway."

He stopped going through the motions of preening to fiddle with the feathers in his lap, and gather others that had escaped his wings. "How much of this do I have to clean up?" Desmond asked after a while, when he felt like things were winding down to a close.

Yusuf wasn't preening Ezio so much as he was just petting his feathers. At some point, the Italian must have gone over Yusuf's wings, because he had a brilliant blue feather tucked into his belt. Desmond assumed it was for his sick kid brother, who was always trying to get his hands on all of the feathers he could while astutely refusing to tell anyone why he needed all of those feathers.

"Whatever is around you," Ezio offered, looking up with a warm smile. "And don't take Rauf so seriously. His jokes are already unfunny." The comment earned him an elbow from Yusuf, but the Turk was grinning too.

For what it was worth, Desmond felt a little better, but now he had an armful of feathers and no idea what to do with them.

"My jokes are hilarious," Rauf protested. "You're the one with the sense of humor of a rock."

"All that was funny which you learned came from me," Yusuf declared.

It was the last bit of the exchange that Desmond heard before slinking out with his unwilling collection of feathers. He figured he'd just get rid of them in his own room along with the rest of them. They kind of stuck to his arms, but he got them into the fussy bag, which was getting pretty full. He'd have to dump it soon, he supposed while retreating to his bed.

He hoped his father wasn't being too much of a hassle to deal with. They said he'd have to wait until he had his down feathers before seeing him, but Desmond ultimately decided he didn't want to see him. To drive that home, he slunk off to brood elsewhere.

Desmond wanted to go seek out Altair, but the wish not to confront him again was stronger than the wish for his company. He stared at the door, knowing it would be dark soon, but also that he did not really want to be alone. Going to the archive was an alternative, even though it wasn't company, exactly... He flopped onto his side, growling.

It had only been a day. Of course it would be all tender and awkward. Didn't mean it made him feel any better.


	6. Survival Instinct

When Altair woke up the next day he knew what he had to do. He'd been thinking about it all last night and he was being a coward about it and if there was one thing Altair was not, it was a coward. And yeah he knew as who Desmond had imprinted on he had responsibility to watch out for him and help him. He was failing that bit and Altair wasn't keen on failing anything.

So after getting dressed he went down the hall to Desmond's room and knocked. There was no answer. He knocked again, harder, and then tried to the knob when there was still no answer. The door opened and he looked in. The room was empty. Altair went in and checked the bathroom, also empty. He stole a look into Connor's room too, but it was just Connor still asleep. That was odd, if not with Connor who was he with?

Altair went and checked with all the others but they hadn't seen him since last night. At least the doors that opened for him to ask said that. Altair still wasn't worried though. He was around somewhere, Altair was sure of it. He checked the cafeteria, even though it was still too early to be serving breakfast.

He knocked on Ed's door again, this time the man answered. "Ed, I can't find Desmond," he said.

"what?" Ed was half asleep still. Altair repeated himself. "You look everywhere?"

Altair was in the process of nodding when he realized, no, he hadn't. "Well... No. But, I need a key to get in it," Ed left the doorway and a moment later a keyring was thrown at him. He caught it and it stung since the ring was literally filled with keys. He frowned as the door closed. Then he looked down at the keyring and low and behold there was the toothless key you needed to get into the archive.

Desmond hadn't meant to fall asleep there, really just close his eyes and listen to the soft not-voices. He found himself half curled up on his side in the sealed room, really roused by what sounded like singing to him rather than the floor, which really was rather uncomfortable.

He pushed himself to sit up, eyes half closed as he opened his mouth to answer back for the first time. Christ, they really were lonely, wailing things. Desmond almost felt as if they had missed him in some strange way, as if a flower could miss the sun. His wings were low, half spread behind him.

The urge to sing was weird and overwhelming, and the words that came to his lips weren't ones he recognized aside from disembodied memories - maybe it was the objects remembering him. Desmond didn't strain to figure it out, and just let it happen. What was the worst it could do?

Altair had only ever been to the archive with Ed. Those times happened very rarely, usually because he couldn't get Haytham to come with him since Ed did not like the archive at all. So Altair had been here only a handful of times.

He fit the toothless key, which itself was one of the artifacts they apparently used to keep in here, into the slot. As he did he heard the oddest thing he thought he'd ever hear coming from the archive: singing. He turned the key. The key clicked the lock unlocked and he pushed the door open.

Desmond was sitting against the wall of the archive, wings like a feather coat, singing. it was by far one of the strangest things Altair had ever witnessed. Because he was just singing quietly to himself in no language Altair even heard.

He kept going, pausing only to breathe at intervals that were few and far between. When Desmond did stop, it was abrupt, and he whirled to look at Altair, eyes wide and bathed in gold. The door slammed itself shut, and he still didn't move. It wasn't until recognition flashed across his face that he seemed to rouse, shaking himself and getting to his feet.

"Uh." Oh. Very eloquent, Desmond. The Eagle Vision was slow to fade, but as it did, he appeared to remember that he had actual eyelids to blink with, not just the slightly opaque membrane. "How did- oh. Yeah, key. Right." Within seconds he was back to awkward, fluttery mess, running a hand through his hair to the back of his neck. "How much of that were you here for?"

"Enough," Altair said "what were you doing in here?" he asked as he moved into the room. He didn't come here very often and just looking around he couldn't understand why Desmond would sleep here, of all places.

Desmond shrugged, more with his wings than with his shoulders. "Sleeping. And singing, apparently. I don't know, didn't want to bother you or anything." Although it looked like he ended up bothering Altair plenty. "I didn't exactly plan on doing that in here, if that's what you mean."

He felt himself getting defensive, and couldn't help it. Yeah, it was pretty weird, and he was already weird enough himself, he didn't really need it to get any worse. This was why he stopped coming in here.

"Don't like your bed?" honestly he was just curious..since Desmond's bed was just as comfortable as his own. He looked at the artifacts and remembered what Desmond had told him and the Kenways. "What were they saying?"

"Nothing. I don't know what they say." If he had to guess, it was more like feeling things. He wasn't in the mood to even attempt explaining what he thought he knew. Desmond's defensive stance deflated along with his sigh. "My bed's fine. I just told you, I didn't want to bother you last night, and I guess I wanted some company."

Desmond looked Altair over. He wasn't angry, but he still felt like he'd gone and done something dumb again. Pushing the feeling aside, he moved toward the door, tracing the otherwise inconspicuous lock with his thumb. "Forget about them." He nodded his head back toward the artifacts.

"If you wanted to talk to me you could have," Altair said, cause he was adult enough to not be super weird. Like now, he didn't have any trouble talking to Desmond now. "And what about Connor?" since they got along.

What about Connor? Desmond had no idea. He hadn't really thought too hard about it. "I dunno," he muttered, "maybe I didn't exactly want to tell him? I just know he'd ask about it."

Turning away from the door, his attention returned to Altair. So did a lot of things that Desmond didn't really want to think about. "Are we... gonna go or just talk this all out in here?"

"Do you want to?" Altair asked and folded his arms over his chest, raising his brows. His wings were relaxed behind him. If Desmond didn't want to bring it up he'd just write out off as one of the many dumb things that came out of Desmond's mouth. Yeah he'd been surprised by it and needed a day to think it overt, bit it didn't really change much.

"Why not? I kind of just want to work it out sooner rather than later. And besides," he rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish half smile, "I'm pretty sure you and Malik were talking about it the entire time while preening yesterday." Desmond moved back into the room, still keeping an awkward distance from Altair, but he was trying.

Altair cocked his head at Desmond, "We might have been," Altair said. "I don't think our conversation was any concern of yours," because it wasn't. He was allowed to talk to his best friend about anything without anyone prying in that conversation. "So did you want to tell me something?"

He flinched a little, not having meant to sound like he was prying. "I understand that it wasn't really the best way, or time, I guess, to tell you something that big. I just... I want you to know that I'm sorry, Alty." Desmond's wings folded up around him somewhat. "I shoulda' thought about how you probably felt about me first. I mean, I'll always just be Des, right? Little, annoying kid brother."

Altair didn't say anything, he just stood there, looking at Desmond, waiting and looking unimpressed. He was waiting and either Desmond would start running his mouth or start to figit. Altair didn't have to wait very long for Desmond to look down and his wings to move nervously, a bunch of the fluffy feathers standing on end.

That's when Altair grinned and unfolded his arms. "Yeah, you're still my annoying Desmond," he ruffled Desmond's hair. "Now let's go get breakfast before Rauf wakes up and makes you train," and he left the archive. .

Desmond had opened his mouth, but let it close without saying anything when Altair mussed his short hair. He felt a little cheated, but that really could have been the extent of Altair's feelings.

The inward groan at the mention of Rauf and training was almost reflex. He followed Altair from the archive, really not feeling any better about it, though any time he got to spend somewhat normally with him was time that Desmond was not keen to miss.

Training with Rauf was, even for the first day, a lot of work. Desmond was determined not to complain, but the paces Rauf put him through were a lot more trying than the previous experience he'd had. It made sense, though. Rauf was training him as an avian to be an avian. Before, all of his training was for humans, and it had been a lot easier in comparison, as it was not tailored. And it was outside! It excited Desmond in the most childish manner, which he hid when Connor commented on it.

He showed up at Altair's door once he'd shoveled dinner into his mouth, still covered in the results of his training, feathers somewhat skewed.

It was a really bad habit that Altair had he'd picked up from some kids back before he'd gotten his wings. Smoking was about the worst habit an avian could have, especially with a wing spam like Altair's, since your lungs and heart were literally your must precious possessions. But Altair had a smoking habit like he had a habit of having sex with minors, which was to say; not at all. But sometimes he just needed one. Like now.

Today had been better than yesterday. So Altair was rewarding himself with a cigarette. He was halfway done with it when someone knocked. Dammit. He didn't like the others to know he smoked still. Ed had chewed his ass out thoroughly for it when he'd been younger so he did it out of sight when he did. He contemplated not opening the door.

When the knock cane again he sighed, set the cigarette in the ashtray and went to get the door. The smell of sweat and work hit his nose like a hammer and he blinked from how strong it was and where it came from, which was Desmond, standing at his door.

"Ew, you still smoke?" Desmond remembered asking Altair once, quite a while ago, what the dust in the tray was from. He never pursued it further than that, and he never found it really bothered him, and it certainly wasn't why he showed up.

"Whatever. So. Uh, training is actually pretty awesome, but it's totally unfair because Connor is doing all the flying stuff, and all I've got are these super fluffy useless things." His wings rose behind him, gesturing almost as much as he usually used his hands.

Desmond had this enjoyable little smile on his face as he managed his way into Altair's room without expressly asking for it. "I can't believe I forgot how big the sky is," he finally said, voice quiet as he invited himself to sit on Altair's floor.

He was trying not to think about that morning.

Altair's head turned as Desmond walked into his room, privately wondering when he became the guy people just walked in on uninvited. Looking at Desmond though he didn't have the heart to kick him out. And he hadn't set his dirty self on Altair's bed so he could live.

He went back to his chair and picked up his cigarette again. The window was open and it was his room, he could smoke if he fucking wanted to. "Flying training happens when your wings come in," Altair said, taking a drag, "And it isn't as easy as it looks," he blew out smoke.

Desmond made a face at him. "I know that, I don't have flight feathers, it's all just muscle exercises." With muscles he had no idea he even had, and had literally just grown over the past year or so, long before the wings even began to show.

He looked down at himself, grimacing a little. "I guess I should've showered before dropping by." Desmond lapsed into a brief silence, watching Altair smoke.

"... Earlier... today, you asked me what the artifacts were saying." He looked away from him, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "It wasn't really like understanding words, but they remembered me, it was kind of like... I don't know, similar to how it felt when I woke up and everyone else in the flock was here." He'd thought about it all day and decided... it felt like that, like coming home, and they were ready to resume. Whatever it was that they were doing. "Like it was about time someone paid them some attention."

Altair snorted, "Well Ed doesn't like people going in there," he said, "makes a lot of people uneasy, especially the humans. They think we'd use the artifact against them. I know some of them think they should be used to defend against us," he sneered, clearly showing what he thought about those people. "So Ed just makes it off limits to everyone, avian and human alike, so people won't bitch. Clearly though we couldn't keep you out if we tried," though till the other day they were under the assumption that unless you had the key you couldn't get in. Altair took another drag of his cigarette and tapped it into the ashtray boredly.

Desmond made no response. It was no secret that he disliked the humans about as much, or even more than the humans disliked them. He pushed himself to his feet, wings rustling.

"If Ed doesn't want me to go in there, he's probably going to have to tell me himself." He regarded Altair with a slight frown. "Does it bother you? That I can get in there?"

"Not really," Altair shrugged and blew smoke, "Not my department honestly. The Kenways deal with the politics between humans and avians and make sure the ones that pop up outside the compound aren't fucked over by the human majority. They just keep be around to look pretty and hit shit," he grinned.

"I guess you are kinda pretty." Desmond stretched, rocking up on his toes. "I'll... yeah, I'm gonna go shower now. Sorry for freaking you out this morning." His wings resituated behind him and he made for the door. "Next time I'm missing though, I'm probably there. You don't have to worry about me all the time."

He tried to smile without it looking like it was a chore. He still had no idea how he was going to deal with the partial rejection and make sure he was doing what he could so things wouldn't get even more awkward between the both of them.

"Good to know, I'll look there first next time," Altair said and finished his cigarette. he stamped it out in the ashtray and didn't light another one. He only smoked now and then and only one. He knew they were terrible for him, especially his lungs, so he limited it to one, it also helped him not get addicted. "And I don't, you're an adult" Altair said, "But Ed said to keep eye on you, especially cause you imprinted. So I am," he shrugged a little. It wasn't a big deal honestly and Altair was still trying to forget what Desmond had said. Mostly it had worked, it was surprisingly easy to just act like it hadn't happened, though he'd needed yesterday to get his shit together and his head screwed on right.

He had stopped with his hand on the door, wings twitching. "If... someone imprinted on someone they had... previous feelings for, would that make them stronger?" Desmond asked slowly, although it was painfully obvious who someone one and someone two were. "They didn't really explain that to me, it's what happened when I woke up right?"

Desmond realized he had no idea, really. If it was just that, maybe it would go away when his flight feathers came in. At least, he was trying to believe it could be traced to something as simple as that, and he could go back to keeping it to himself. Even so, he was shaking his head. He kind of didn't even want to know, as if knowing would invalidate the whole problem, which he finally saw as how to make Altair stop thinking of him as the helpless little kid brother and, at the very least, more of an adult.

Altair could say he didn't worry, but Desmond was pretty sure he thought of him in pretty much the same manner as when he was younger. Or that was what he said before.

"It would I guess," Altair shrugged, "Kinda hard to tell. I know it did for Rauf and Yusuf. Rauf was the one who took Yusuf to med when his wings came in and was there when he came out. It's more like," he thought a minute.

It was hard to explain imprinting sometimes, especially since people already had a preconceived notion of what it really was. Too many shitty fantasy and supernatural stories had turned imprinting into something that was borderline disgusting, especially to avians who actually did imprint. Humans thought it was some great thing that would make you closer to someone or even feel like they were soul mates or some other stupid romantic bullshit that wasn't real.

"Kinda like mother duck syndrome in a way. First thing you see after your wings pop out is like your 'mother' and they're usually supposed to help you learn how to be avian. Like how to clean your wings, help you build up your muscles, make sure you eat right, and if possible teach you how to fly, or glide depending on your wingspan. It's survival instinct to stay close to them, which is why I was the one who's supposed to watch out for you. Or worry about you, whatever it is," he waved his hand. Imprinting wasn't a big deal honestly. He'd imprinted on Haytham and had followed him around like a puppy for three days before being reprimanded for being too clingy. Altair honestly did his best not to be imprinted on. Was just kinda annoying at times. Like now honestly.

He frowned. "At least I know it's not something completely weird," Desmond muttered. "Well, I can't blame it on that." All in all, he wasn't too happy about it, and wanted to press the subject. Speaking his mind, though, was what started it, and he wasn't very keen on talking as openly anymore. Besides, he could deal with it just as well on his own.

Desmond looked back at him, chewing on his lip. He didn't bother to say much of a goodbye, hoping that a half-assed excuse for a wave would work before he slipped out and went off to shower. Shower and probably brood until falling asleep, but definitely shower.


	7. Problem Solved?

Between Rauf's training and trying to ignore the irritating need - instinct - to be somewhere near Altair, Desmond was becoming exhausted and a little more than snippy. Honestly, only a few days into it, he realized it probably wasn't the best plan, especially since it revolved around ignoring a survival instinct, but it was all he had to work with.

The worst thing was, he began to worry about when Altair would call him out on it, and tell him it was another stupid thing. To avoid it, he ended up only interacting with Altair when he had to. Meals that happened to be at the same time, preening - although the last one ended badly with Desmond all but slinking off to his room. He even kept out of the archive for the most part.

He had come to the realization that doing all of this probably only made him appear even more childish, and when he had, he ended up ignoring the fact. At least he had the tenacity to follow through with his plans. Not that it was the most intelligent choice.

Desmond didn't really feel any pride even when he tried. A week of the act had him trying to sneak into the archive which faced him with the (colossally mental) problem of Altair knowing and finding him there. That and walking past his door. That also really sucked.

Altair's ears pricked whenever someone walked by his door. He was sensitive to that stuff and knew the walks of most of the people in the compound if he could help it and was keenly attuned to the avian ones especially. They tended to walk lighter than humans, lighter skeletons and all. The avian walking by his room was Desmond and he looked at the door when the footsteps stopped for a moment.

In the past week Desmond had been weird. Altair just let him be mostly though. As he'd told Desmond he was an adult, and Altair would treat him like one. He wasn't Desmond's nanny or his baby sitter he just made sure Desmond was okay mainly. But as said, Desmond was acting weird, meaning he wasn't okay. Meaning it was his problem to deal with.

With a sigh Altair got up out of his chair and went to the door. He got a surprised looking Desmond when he opened the door. Clearly the new avian hadn't been expecting Altair to hear him, most humans didn't. Altair also was obviously opening the door to see Desmond since he didn't leave the doorway. "Hey," he said, frowning a little.

He managed to control the surprised flinch a little more than usual. Desmond froze up a little while trying to figure out what to think, much less say. "Don't... freak me out like that."

Desmond lost the nerve to just leave. "If I stay and talk, you won't call me stupid, because I already know." He needed to talk, and admitted to himself that it was specifically their relationship that he needed to talk about, but he couldn't and wouldn't be able to just sit and take it if it ended up just being about the manner he went about trying to fix it.

His wings were folded tight up against his back, nervous and insecure.

"I wasn't going to call you stupid," Altair said mildly and leaned against his door, "I can if it'll make you feel better," he smirked a little. "I'm just checking in. Haytham noticed you were acting funny and told me to deal with it. So I am. How you doing? Training all right? Need me to tell Rauf to ease up on it?" really he was just there to help Desmond. He was supposed to do that after all since he was the one Desmond had imprinted on.

So Haytham had to tell him. "That's funny." Desmond cast a short lived glare at Altair's door. "I'm fine, just trying to not, you know, be a big ass fucking bother to you. Or anyone else, really." The last bit was tacked on.

"Stop it, you sound like you're reading a script or something." Altair was probably the worst person he could have imprinted on, not only because of his confused sexual desires concerning him, but the fact that Altair just wasn't really good at the whole 'imprintee' deal.

Altair frowned, mostly in confusion. "Well you're not a bother if you're worried," Altair said, "But you are my responsibility and I'm doing what I'm supposed to do, which is check up on you. So I am. Are you doing okay?" It wasn't like he was blind to Desmond's weirdness. "I'd hoped that if there was something you'd come to me about it. But you haven't so I'm making sure."

He straightened a bit since he didn't appreciate Desmond treating him like a robot. He was doing the best he could dammit and with little help on Desmond's part. "I'm not stupid Desmond, I'm just doing the best I can. I can't do that if you're avoiding me or being unnecessarily hostile to me."

"I don't want you to think of me like I'm just a kid, I don't want to get stuck with you seeing me like that. I wanted you to see me as an adult." Desmond shifted his weight. "I really don't want to talk about this here."

But he really needed to talk about it. Starting made it hard to stop. "It's still bothering me, I just didn't want to be annoying."

"I am treating you like an adult you moron," Altair said. "Or at least I'm trying to. You keep acting like a child though. I shouldn't have to be on your ass all the time to know if you're doing okay. I shouldn't have to coddle you like you're making me. I expected you to be an adult and come to me if you needed me," Altair's wings were half flared. He wasn't going to be disrespected by a brat.

"Instead you're sulking around and Haytham shouldn't have to tell me to check in on you. You need to be talking to us and especially me. Instead you're acting like a self centered brat," it was true. Haytham had never coddled him, he didn't have the time or the patience. So Altair had always been vocal with what he needed, what he was confused about. He knew it was the same for the rest of the flock. They fell apart if they didn't communicate. "If you don't want to talk to me I don't care. But at least talk to someone about what crawled up your ass and died. The flock is a unit, a family, and we expect you to act like it."

Altair hadn't exactly wanted Haytham doing things to him like Desmond wanted Altair to. Desmond scowled. "Let me in, then. I'm not talking about this in the hallway." He hated it when Altair said family. In fact, he didn't like the way Altair said a lot of things, it was pretty much everything he didn't want him to say. "It has nothing to do with the rest of the flock. Just you and me, and I do want to talk to you."

Desmond's feathers were as flat as they had ever been. He wasn't about to go and cry about the asshole who was the object of his affections to Connor. He'd considered it a couple of times, and each time decided it was something he had to figure out between himself and Altair.

"Not so hard is it?" Altair asked and checked his wings so they weren't so threatening and large behind him. He also needed to pull them in to fit back through the door. He moved out of the way for Desmond to join him and closed it after him.

"If you need to talk to me then you should have just come and talk to me. I'm not going to make it weird even if you have a crush. You're the only one making it weird," and really he wasn't. Connor had had a little crush on him when he was younger but then, like now, Altair had been weird one day before getting over it. It wasn't a big deal. Desmond was making this an ordeal by keeping it in. "Whatever you want to talk about, we can talk about," because he was a fucking adult and not afraid of dealing with a horny teenager.

"You pretty much said I'm basically just your kid brother... I know I was really blunt when I told you, I've said that already." Desmond sighed, though it was more of a huffing exhale. "It's not because I imprinted on you, but it's really fucking awkward since I did."

"I'm pretty sure it's not just a crush, and I'm not trying to be awkward about it, I'm- I don't know how I'm supposed to even begin to fix that first fuck up. I've never told anyone, Alty."  
Desmond found his spot in the middle of Altair's floor and sat down heavily. He always felt so bad about it too. None of them wore shirts except for Malik, but as the temperature rose, the flock collectively tended to wear less. So he was stuck there, trying not to obviously stare, because Altair was just damn beautiful. He felt incredibly guilty after jacking off to thoughts of him, and even worse running into him afterward.

"And you've never told me how you feel about me."

Altair sighed. He did want to make this as painless as possible. He crouched down in front of Desmond, using his wings to keep him from falling over, honestly he'd never had better balance since he got them. It was like it was physically impossible for him to fall over.

"So this is basically the long and short of it," honestly he just wanted to get it out of the way. "I know you like me, you blurted it out in possibly the worst way possible but I'm past that, it isn't a big deal." Yeah he didn't just get random declarations of wanting to fuck but he supposed that if it could happen to anyone it would be him. Of course. "Thing is though I don't feel the same way. I don't really have a reason to and you haven't given me a good one to think of you as anything but a kid brother. You want me to treat you like an adult and when I do you act like a child and I can tell you one thing I'm not attracted to is childish behavior."

"The way you say that makes me feel like I'm never getting anywhere." Desmond moved himself away from Altair when he crouched down.

He stared at him for a while, then looked away, fixing somewhere on Altair's floor. "I don't want to feel like I have to make you want to have a relationship with me. I want to be closer to you, but it... With how I feel, and knowing that you don't..." Desmond almost didn't want to have anything to do with him, but he couldn't just go ahead and say that. "I don't know what's okay to do around you, since it's clearly too much to ask for a fuck just to get that out of my system. It feels so Goddamn wrong when it'd mean so much to me."

So that was it, the same kind of thing as when he was a kid. Convincing. He was too tired to even get angry about it.

Altair had a feeling he was about to get a very strange reaction out of Desmond with his next words: "We can fuck if you want." Altair was completely serious with that too.

* * *

WOAH there friend, this here isn't the end of the chapter. I think it goes on for another 5-7 more thousand words or something

but

you can't read it here

why?

Well cause this website doesn't allow for mature content and lemmie tell you: this chapter is _full_ of mature content. You can find the chapter in full on AO3 (please don't ask me what that is, google is your friend here) under the same story name as this one.

Happy reading


	8. He's my Father

Desmond had tried pretty much every excuse he knew of to delay the inevitable meeting with William. Edward hadn't been as sympathetic as he thought, and Haytham, of course, wasn't in the slightest. He was above begging Connor to talk to his father on his behalf, and it ultimately left him leaving his room in the morning a day after he found out he absolutely had to make this meeting, covered with the evidence of his and Altair's sex to see his father for the first time since his wings were cut from his back.

He found he was more irritated and nervous than embarrassed even as he passed his knuckles over a curved bruise from Altair's teeth. Some had been overlaid with bruises from training with Connor, but many were clearly hickies. Not to mention the fact that he'd stolen a few kisses from Altair, who may or may not have split his lip.

"Dad." It was his first time out of the Avian quarters as well, and he didn't want to even move from the door without having another alongside him. Desmond had never noticed it before, but the scent itself was unsettling.

Bill was at once happy to see his son yet disappointed in what he saw. He'd been very clear some weeks ago that until he said Desmond wasn't to go into surgery. He hadn't found out till after the fact and Desmond was already in the avian wing, outside of his sphere of influence, winged and imprinted on Altaïr on top of that. It had taken him till now to beak Edward down to the point of being able to see Desmond since the avian leader kept giving him excuses and bullshit reasons- that they both knew were bullshit- why he couldn't see his son. But Bill what he wanted in the end.

He was glad to see Desmond, he hadn't in nearly a month. It was the longest he'd never seen his boy. But just Christ he already didn't look like his son, winged in down and covered in the near constant bruises the avians were known for from training rough or pecking order. His cheek twitched when he realized not all the bruises were from training. He was going to /pluck/ whoever had done that to his son.

"Hello, son," Bill at least put on a bit of a smile, though somehow it felt like he was meeting a stranger.

He finally let the door close, and the lock was warm under his hand until he drew away from it completely. "What do you want? And I mean what you really want." Desmond's wings shuffled and re-folded themselves behind him. He wasn't trying to sound combative, he simply didn't want to be pulled around again, because the last time, it hurt like all hell, and it was not healthy.

Desmond thought that at least another member of the flock would be there, but it was Bill, and he was his flesh and blood.

Bill blinked, "You're my son," he said, "I wanted to see you because of that."

Not that he could do anything anyway. There was a very clear, distinct, dividing line between humans and avians in the compound and the two species did not mingle except to eat and sometimes train together. Most humans didn't like training with avians though since even unwinged they were stronger, faster, and had sharper reflexes than any human. It made humans look weak and fragile in comparison. And if there was one thing is men hated: it was looking weak.

The previous leader of the flock had been even less sympathetic than Ed too. Despite the fact that his own son had been human he wanted nothing to do with him. Bill liked Ed because eventually he broke down and didn't lead the flock so much as stand in front of it and let his own son be more political. He let Bill get away with stuff Rashid never would have, like see his own damn son. He was glad that old buzzard was dead.

"Now come over here, let me see you. I haven't seen you in a month."

Desmond caved, wings low as he moved closer to his father. "What about Mom? Didn't she want to see me?" He'd grown out of it, but when he was young, if it wasn't Altair he was tagging behind, it was his mother. It was about a 50-50 chance, whether or not she'd pay attention to him while sorting through technical intelligence, but somehow she wasn't as bad as Bill.

He tipped his head, realizing that he stood even with his father, and stood straight where he normally would have slouched. A great deal of that was due to the fact that his wings did cause a lot of pain without proper posture. Desmond had learned that pretty early on. Even with his muscles accustomed to moving and supporting the limbs now, a straight spine was one of the most important things.

"Your mother's been busy," Bill said, she'd barely noticed when Desmond had moved into the avian wing. She hadn't let herself get attached to a child that in her eyes didn't really belong to her; wasn't human. She still gave Bill dirty looks about it. Bill looked his son over, glad he wasn't slouching at least, nineteen years and it took wings to make him stand up straight. He ignored the marks, even the ones shaped like teeth. At the very least Desmond's wings had come in large. He smiled; good, it had worked, there had been a higher percentage of failure than success.

"You're starting to look less like a kid," Bill said thoughtfully though he wasn't quite sure how much he liked that. Already Desmond had been kept away from him and Bill knew he really couldn't make Desmond do anything without pestering Ed about it. Or earning himself enough good will to want Desmond to do it himself. He was basically back at square one now. Before Desmond hadn't been avian, he had to listen to Bill, and not just because he was Desmond's dad, he was human. Now he had to convince Desmond of everything, to help. It would have been so much easier if they'd listened to him about the surgery so he could have been the one Desmond imprinted on.

Desmond frowned, though he had to admit he was never really a priority for his mother. He didn't really have a response for Bill, shrugging. His wings did most of the gesture.

"There's just a lot of things I don't know about myself. Rauf has me training every day, stuff that keeps me busy." Things he probably could have had a head start on if he hadn't been only doing what his father wanted him to do. He was glad that Bill wasn't hounding him about the marks, reaching up to rub his neck. They were still pretty warm under his hand.

"No time for your old man?" Bill feigned being hurt, more he was annoyed that clearly Rauf was getting more activity and obedience out of Desmond than he'd ever given him. He was Desmond's father and he should be the one getting obedience and such dedication from his son. Not some strange avian Desmond had honestly only known about a month. Bill had tried to keep Desmond as human as possible, because he saw what it looked like when avians suddenly grew their wings and got high and mighty. No one liked it but there wasn't much they could do. No one knew where the avians came from, but everyone knew that in every way they were better than run of the mill humans and if they ever decided to go the way of their flock it wouldn't be hard for them to become the world's dominant species instead of humans.

He just shrugged. "There're things you couldn't have taught me." Desmond's wings folded back up. He watched him a little warily, gaze flicking over his father's features. Instinct had been making up for lost time pretty well though.

"Besides, if you ever left your quarters, you'd find me in the mess hall when everyone else is eating." In fact, he was more on time for meals than he used to be. It was mostly because his wings were still growing, and he was still putting on muscle, which made him hungry on an incredibly regular basis. He'd probably eat less protein and more carbs when he could fly, but for now, it was anything he could get his hands on and Rauf's supplements.

Bill frowned, "C'mon you know that isn't fair. I'm a busy guy," it was true and Desmond knew it. Bill rarely ate with everyone because he was busy running the compound and making sure people, like his disobedient son, were safe and Abstergo couldn't hurt them. Though really he wondered what Abstergo could do to a flock of avians, he'd never heard of them capturing feral ones. Not one, not even a child. But there was more at stake than just the avian and humans weren't quite so resilient as them.

"Never have I ever remembered you eating with the rest of us. You know, I couldn't find Clay or Becca or anything. Did they all move or something?" Or did you tell them not to see me? He left it unsaid, but it was strange that his friends seemed to disappear off the face of the planet. Tracking Lucy down was like hunting rabbits. Or he assumed like hunting rabbits. He'd always heard they were timid and ran at the first sight of anything that wasn't another rabbit.

Desmond slouched as much as his wings allowed. "I'd like to see them sometimes too, but I don't want it to be like a covert ops mission in order to do so."  
"They're still there," Bill said, "maybe your flock has been keeping them from you?" he just sort of asked to the air. He wanted his son to be human again. Not strictly human, but not avian. It was why he'd kept them away from the flock. Guys like Connor, or Altair, or even Haytham were nearly alien compared to humans. Haytham and Connor both had powerful avian fathers who kept their sons with the flock and not humans. Altair had always sided with his grandfather, always disdained their species for some trivial reason. Bill had always wanted to make Desmond morehuman even if he never would be. That included his friends, keeping them around, letting them have some time together, sometimes even turning a blind eye when they did something he didn't approve of. "I've been trying to see you for a month. Edward and Haytham keep giving me excuses."

Desmond took a half step back. "I didn't really want to see you," he said blandly, closing off as quickly as he'd given in. "I thought you wanted to talk about something, this fatherly stuff isn't the usual for you." He wasn't sure who was behind the hassle to meet up with his old friends, but it wasn't the issue here.

"I can't just want to see my son?" Bill asked, putting his hand on Desmond's shoulder.

"I'm not a kid anymore, Bill." He stressed his father's name, wings rising and unfolding somewhat when he was touched. "And I fit in, I'm doing what I'm supposed to - for the most part. You always want something else." Desmond didn't move away from his hand, but was unsettled by it.

His father didn't often touch him unless it was to steer him off somewhere or keep him from slinking away. Desmond wasn't used to it not meaning something negative.

"Maybe I just realized I should be thankful for the things I have while they're around," he squeezed Desmond's shoulder.

Desmond lifted his lip somewhat. "You couldn't have realized that sooner?" He pulled away from him a little, not quite enough to break from his grip. His wings relaxed somewhat, although he was clearly uneasy, and couldn't meet Bill's eyes. "I have training," he mumbled, the same way he mumbled every excuse he'd ever given him as a kid.

'I fell asleep,' or 'I forgot, Dad.' His shoulders even rose the way they always had, the only differences now being his age and the fact that his wings copied every motion his shoulders made.

Bill's lips went thin and he knew he was done, for now at least."Well I'm just glad you found something that makes you want to do something," he knew it was a low blow but he wasn't below it in the slightest. "You can come see me whenever you want," he patted Desmond's shoulder before taking his hand away.

Desmond pulled himself away and more or less fled back into the avian quarters. He knew Bill wanted something - he always wanted something from him. He just had no idea what it was. Honestly, Desmond thought he was pretty much useless for his father.

The limp wormed its way back into his stride and he went through his training with Rauf and Connor with a little less enthusiasm than usual. It bugged him. The entire time he spoke with his dad, it just bugged him. He was glad to be let off a little easy, and ate his lunch slowly when he was allowed to leave.

He decided it wasn't worth bothering Altair with impulsive, hardly thought out worries, and spent the rest of his afternoon keeping up his wings. Flock preening was tomorrow, which meant no one would really be doing anything other than that, and it filled the entire evening block after dinner. Desmond just let it rest in his mind and roused enough to eat dinner. He'd catch Altair after preening.

Of course, it was always easier said than done, and he ended up leaving a mess of feathers in Ed's room to catch up with him. "Altair." An entire day to mull over it, and Desmond still had nothing other than a bad feeling. He had no real idea or reason for it, just a feeling. He didn't like it anymore than the way it upset him, so he was doing what Altair berated him for not doing earlier: saying something. "Can I go with you? I want to talk about... something."

Altair was always relieved when someone else got their fingers in his feathers and picked out all the feathers or pieces of grit he physically couldn't reach because of their size. Malik was the best at it, but he wasn't averse to other people doing it either. He left shortly after Malik did, after shaking his wings a bit to get out any of the last loose feathers that might have remained. When Desmond called him from his place where he was on the door he looked back at him. "Sure," he said and then beckoned with one wing as he slipped out of Ed's room, an invitation for Desmond to follow.

Desmond was quiet for the majority of the walk to Altair's room, only speaking up at the door. "It's about... my dad." He pulled in a breath. It wasn't exactly what he wanted to think about, but he remembered pretty clearly the last time he'd been in his room. His wings pulled close, and he turned himself back to the thoughts that troubled him.

Altair looked at Desmond and then down the hall where Ed's room was, the closest to the door that led to the rest of the compound; and the humans. "Inside," he said, opening his door. He followed Desmond in and once the door was closed said: "What about Bill?"

"I don't know, it feels like he wants something from me." Desmond had picked up a place at the edge of Altair's bed rather than his spot on the floor. "He didn't mention anything about it but... he when we talked, he was never that fatherly." He cast an irritated glare at the floor, curling his toes. "And my mom didn't even care to show up. I mean, I knew she never cared, but at least she doesn't care?"

He wasn't sure if that made any sense, and shook his head a little. A part of him wanted to have someone he was actually a relative of to care, even if they were human. If Bill had done anything for him, it was instill a deep seated feeling for those he grew up with, and other than Connor, they were all human.

"He's your father," Altair said, standing in front of Desmond, wings relaxed, but arms folded across his chest, "he always wants something. Important men always want something from their children," like his grandfather had wanted from Umar, who'd been nothing in his eyes; human, and like Umar was to him. "Your father more than most though it seems," not that it wasn't true. Bill was constantly trying to meddle in flock affairs.

Desmond shifted a little, finding his blunt, kind of dirty fingernails incredibly interesting as he continued. "He said something that put me off, about my friends, and how I haven't been able to see them having something to do with... Ed and Haytham." His wings were curved around his shoulders rather than folded at his back. "I thought it was Bill's fault I couldn't find any of them to hang out with, but... I don't know."

"Avians and humans are separate," Altair said, "we always have been, since prehistory. Our species do not easily mingle except usually to have children if needed. I doubt the Kenways have kept them from you so much that they have avoided you. Humans are afraid of us, like they have some predisposed attitude to fear us, as much as they want to be near us. If you want to know you'll have to ask the Kenways, because other than them doing what they've always done I don't have an answer."

"Lucy said she wouldn't be like that," He looked up at him. "They all knew, I mean... Shaun and Dan were a little weird about it, but Clay and Becca..." Desmond rubbed his face, ending with his fingers laced at the back of his head. "I don't know anymore. Connor and I are good friends, better since we're both like this now, but... I don't want to lose my other friends just because of... of a stupid stigma."

It had been fine before his wings, everything had been fine. They got thrown into the mix, and he became, undeniably, an avian, and a lot of things went to shit. It felt like everything had, but Desmond knew that wasn't entirely true. "I get that I'm an avian, and I have always been, I get that, but who decided I'm suddenly not the same Desmond that they're friends with?"

"You did," Altair said. "I've always been the same. Unlike you though I never had any attachments to humans. I have always been avian, even before my wings came in. You were trying to be both, but you aren't. Things change Desmond, even if you don't like it and you can't always stop it. It isn't like you can go back to who you were, your friends probably know that. They know you're not the Desmond they knew. You're different," after all Altair had watched Desmond change before his eyes. In less than a month he'd gone from fit, if slightly oddly muscled, human to an avian who was going to have back muscles like a weightlifter and muscled legs to support the impact of landing. Desmond was as close to feral as Altair had ever seen someone, with bird noises and chirps. Altair couldn't remember doing that himself, maybe Malik had but he couldn't remember. The fact though was that Desmond had changed, and he wasn't the same Desmond Miles who'd been friends with humans.

His feathers puffed out and actually bristled. Desmond knew Altair was right, and that was what made him angry. That he knew himself. "I hate them. I hate my wings, but losing them would kill me, and I hate that." He really only hated them at times like these, but it didn't change that there were points where he really believed he would have been better off without them.

Desmond's emotions were much clearer through his wings than his face, and he couldn't hide that. He didn't want to believe that he was that different, because deep down, it was a drastic change that happened all too quickly. The fear showed just as clearly in his wings as his anger appeared. He thought it was petty and absolutely unfair, and he had no way of controlling it.

"Oh Des," Altair sighed and stepped closer to him, his wings came up and wrapped around him, comforting him like he knew they did. Then he put his hands on Desmond's shoulders, pushing through recently cleaned feather and pulled him closer, so Desmond's head rested against the lower part of his chest. "Don't hate them," he said softly and ran the fingers of his scarred hand through Desmond's hair, much like he had while helping some of the others with Desmond's forever messy wings.

He all but clung to the other avian, fingers fitting into the lines of muscle down Altair's back. Desmond was fine with getting pressed up against him, it meant he didn't have to try that hard not to look like he wanted to break down and cry. "But I feel like it sometimes."

The wings around him and fingers in his hair did wonders, and the tense set of his shoulders melted while a soft sighing kind of sound repeated itself a few times before he regained control of his breathing.

"They're a wonder," Altair told him, because he himself believed this. He'd been born wishing he could fly, like all humans did. But unlike humans one day he'd be able to. "We are wonders of evolution," an evolution no one could really... explain. Avians had appeared in the fossil record suddenly and with little warning. It was like at some point in human evolution there weren't avians, and then all at once; there they were. "You shouldn't hate that," he continued to card his fingers through Desmond's hair, a comforting hand on his upper back where neck met spine, and his wings pressed in close around him. Altair might not have been the best person to imprint on, but he did his best. And at the very least he could do this.

Desmond tipped his head back to look up at him, mostly to force the hand that was combing through his short hair to cradle his skull. He might have felt a little embarrassed in any other situation when his next sighing exhale was chased by cooing.

"I... don't, really," he mumbled after a while, almost too lazy to tip his head forward to look away. In pretty much one minute's time, he'd been calmed down and it hadn't taken much. His fingers relaxed, nails no longer digging quite so hard into Altair's back. Desmond didn't really want to ask Altair to let him go, either, even when it became less about calming down and more about just being there.

Altair chuckled a little, "Doesn't mean you aren't," he said, kneading the back of Desmond's neck a little. "We're made to be wonders," he smirked, that was how he thought of it anyway. Even the feral avians were respected and for the most part left alone, with massive wing spans for flying. He'd heard they had claws, or talons, though most people stayed away from them since as the name feral implied, they were wild and either attacked anything that came near, or just flew away. But they were amazing. "Got it?" he asked him.

It was strange, Altair was giving words to the feelings he got from the artifacts, without ever having heard them. Desmond offered a smile and nodded. "Got it," he replied, even though he leaned against Altair's chest again, eyes closed.

So he was milking it for what it was. Desmond had no way of knowing when he could enjoy Altair being so gentle with him. His hands ended up somewhere around the lower half of Altair's back before he finally kept them to himself.

"Good," Altair said and honestly he was just glad to have helped at all. Desmond could be a finicky thing when it came to asking for help or looking for someone to comfort him. Though really Altair didn't blame him, not like he got a lot of practice with either of those things with Bill. He was just sort of expected to be okay at all times. Altair wasn't a really touchy feely guy, that was Rauf of Yusuf's departments, but he was the imprintee, he had to deal with it and would. He was glad he hadn't fucked it up.

He wrung his hands in his lap. "Can I... get a kiss before I go?" Desmond asked with a nervous, little smile, wings folded properly behind him. He wasn't going to push his luck, and he wasn't going to lie, he didn't really want anything more than that. It reminded him of when he was younger, and stole little kid's kisses from him, pecks on the cheek before running off laughing. It was a stupid, short-lived habit that died before he was seven, and he began seeking attention in other ways.

Altair didn't sigh. He was close to doing so, but didn't. He tried really hard to avoid this since Altair didn't really... do emotional attachment. He wasn't very good at it and found the back and forth tiresome. He knew Desmond was attached, knew he was still emotionally invested. Altair just didn't want to hand him a knife and say not to stab himself with it. Or maybe not eat candy when handed to him was a better analogy, though Desmond would be the one out of any of them to stab himself on accident.

"Okay," Altair said, "but that's it," he added, a bit stern. When Desmond nodded he leaned down, cantered Desmond's head just so, his hand still on the back of his neck, and kissed him.

Desmond pressed into the kiss, wings spreading slightly behind him. He opened his mouth, licking Altair's bottom lip before sinking back against his hand. His breath was still slow, and he wasn't going to ask for more even though it was pretty clear he wasn't averse to it.

Altair ran his fingers through Desmond's hair once, twice, and then pulled his mouth away, even if some part of him begged to suck his lower lip, just to see it become redden. He'd given a kiss but that was all he was giving. "There you go," Altair said softly and took his hands off Desmond, pulling his wings back behind him. "You should go to your room," before he made it even harder for Desmond to walk.

He stood up, his own wings shuffling and folding. "I might be in a compromising position if you feel like showing up after lunch tomorrow," Desmond offered, voice low. He made his exit more like an escape before he got too embarrassed with the proposition. Sure, he was a little aroused now, but it was late, and he knew that the moment he got to his bed, exhaustion would win out over his teenage dick. It just meant he was going to need something else later.

Altair physically could not stop his eyes from following Desmond as he left the room. It was like they were drawn to his back by a magnet. Then the door closed, shutting Altair off from Desmond and leaving Altair with just the reminder of Desmond's scent and the words he'd said.

Shit.

Desmond had tried pretty much every excuse he knew of to delay the inevitable meeting with William. Edward hadn't been as sympathetic as he thought, and Haytham, of course, wasn't in the slightest. He was above begging Connor to talk to his father on his behalf, and it ultimately left him leaving his room in the morning a day after he found out he absolutely had to make this meeting, covered with the evidence of his and Altair's sex to see his father for the first time since his wings were cut from his back.

He found he was more irritated and nervous than embarrassed even as he passed his knuckles over a curved bruise from Altair's teeth. Some had been overlaid with bruises from training with Connor, but many were clearly hickies. Not to mention the fact that he'd stolen a few kisses from Altair, who may or may not have split his lip.

"Dad." It was his first time out of the Avian quarters as well, and he didn't want to even move from the door without having another alongside him. Desmond had never noticed it before, but the scent itself was unsettling.

Bill was at once happy to see his son yet disappointed in what he saw. He'd been very clear some weeks ago that until he said Desmond wasn't to go into surgery. He hadn't found out till after the fact and Desmond was already in the avian wing, outside of his sphere of influence, winged and imprinted on Altaïr on top of that. It had taken him till now to beak Edward down to the point of being able to see Desmond since the avian leader kept giving him excuses and bullshit reasons- that they both knew were bullshit- why he couldn't see his son. But Bill what he wanted in the end.

He was glad to see Desmond, he hadn't in nearly a month. It was the longest he'd never seen his boy. But just Christ he already didn't look like his son, winged in down and covered in the near constant bruises the avians were known for from training rough or pecking order. His cheek twitched when he realized not all the bruises were from training. He was going to /pluck/ whoever had done that to his son.

"Hello, son," Bill at least put on a bit of a smile, though somehow it felt like he was meeting a stranger.

He finally let the door close, and the lock was warm under his hand until he drew away from it completely. "What do you want? And I mean what you really want." Desmond's wings shuffled and re-folded themselves behind him. He wasn't trying to sound combative, he simply didn't want to be pulled around again, because the last time, it hurt like all hell, and it was not healthy.

Desmond thought that at least another member of the flock would be there, but it was Bill, and he was his flesh and blood.

Bill blinked, "You're my son," he said, "I wanted to see you because of that."

Not that he could do anything anyway. There was a very clear, distinct, dividing line between humans and avians in the compound and the two species did not mingle except to eat and sometimes train together. Most humans didn't like training with avians though since even unwinged they were stronger, faster, and had sharper reflexes than any human. It made humans look weak and fragile in comparison. And if there was one thing is men hated: it was looking weak.

The previous leader of the flock had been even less sympathetic than Ed too. Despite the fact that his own son had been human he wanted nothing to do with him. Bill liked Ed because eventually he broke down and didn't lead the flock so much as stand in front of it and let his own son be more political. He let Bill get away with stuff Rashid never would have, like see his own damn son. He was glad that old buzzard was dead.

"Now come over here, let me see you. I haven't seen you in a month."

Desmond caved, wings low as he moved closer to his father. "What about Mom? Didn't she want to see me?" He'd grown out of it, but when he was young, if it wasn't Altair he was tagging behind, it was his mother. It was about a 50-50 chance, whether or not she'd pay attention to him while sorting through technical intelligence, but somehow she wasn't as bad as Bill.

He tipped his head, realizing that he stood even with his father, and stood straight where he normally would have slouched. A great deal of that was due to the fact that his wings did cause a lot of pain without proper posture. Desmond had learned that pretty early on. Even with his muscles accustomed to moving and supporting the limbs now, a straight spine was one of the most important things.

"Your mother's been busy," Bill said, she'd barely noticed when Desmond had moved into the avian wing. She hadn't let herself get attached to a child that in her eyes didn't really belong to her; wasn't human. She still gave Bill dirty looks about it. Bill looked his son over, glad he wasn't slouching at least, nineteen years and it took wings to make him stand up straight. He ignored the marks, even the ones shaped like teeth. At the very least Desmond's wings had come in large. He smiled; good, it had worked, there had been a higher percentage of failure than success.

"You're starting to look less like a kid," Bill said thoughtfully though he wasn't quite sure how much he liked that. Already Desmond had been kept away from him and Bill knew he really couldn't make Desmond do anything without pestering Ed about it. Or earning himself enough good will to want Desmond to do it himself. He was basically back at square one now. Before Desmond hadn't been avian, he had to listen to Bill, and not just because he was Desmond's dad, he was human. Now he had to convince Desmond of everything, to help. It would have been so much easier if they'd listened to him about the surgery so he could have been the one Desmond imprinted on.

Desmond frowned, though he had to admit he was never really a priority for his mother. He didn't really have a response for Bill, shrugging. His wings did most of the gesture.

"There's just a lot of things I don't know about myself. Rauf has me training every day, stuff that keeps me busy." Things he probably could have had a head start on if he hadn't been only doing what his father wanted him to do. He was glad that Bill wasn't hounding him about the marks, reaching up to rub his neck. They were still pretty warm under his hand.

"No time for your old man?" Bill feigned being hurt, more he was annoyed that clearly Rauf was getting more activity and obedience out of Desmond than he'd ever given him. He was Desmond's father and he should be the one getting obedience and such dedication from his son. Not some strange avian Desmond had honestly only known about a month. Bill had tried to keep Desmond as human as possible, because he saw what it looked like when avians suddenly grew their wings and got high and mighty. No one liked it but there wasn't much they could do. No one knew where the avians came from, but everyone knew that in every way they were better than run of the mill humans and if they ever decided to go the way of their flock it wouldn't be hard for them to become the world's dominant species instead of humans.

He just shrugged. "There're things you couldn't have taught me." Desmond's wings folded back up. He watched him a little warily, gaze flicking over his father's features. Instinct had been making up for lost time pretty well though.

"Besides, if you ever left your quarters, you'd find me in the mess hall when everyone else is eating." In fact, he was more on time for meals than he used to be. It was mostly because his wings were still growing, and he was still putting on muscle, which made him hungry on an incredibly regular basis. He'd probably eat less protein and more carbs when he could fly, but for now, it was anything he could get his hands on and Rauf's supplements.

Bill frowned, "C'mon you know that isn't fair. I'm a busy guy," it was true and Desmond knew it. Bill rarely ate with everyone because he was busy running the compound and making sure people, like his disobedient son, were safe and Abstergo couldn't hurt them. Though really he wondered what Abstergo could do to a flock of avians, he'd never heard of them capturing feral ones. Not one, not even a child. But there was more at stake than just the avian and humans weren't quite so resilient as them.

"Never have I ever remembered you eating with the rest of us. You know, I couldn't find Clay or Becca or anything. Did they all move or something?" Or did you tell them not to see me? He left it unsaid, but it was strange that his friends seemed to disappear off the face of the planet. Tracking Lucy down was like hunting rabbits. Or he assumed like hunting rabbits. He'd always heard they were timid and ran at the first sight of anything that wasn't another rabbit.

Desmond slouched as much as his wings allowed. "I'd like to see them sometimes too, but I don't want it to be like a covert ops mission in order to do so."  
"They're still there," Bill said, "maybe your flock has been keeping them from you?" he just sort of asked to the air. He wanted his son to be human again. Not strictly human, but not avian. It was why he'd kept them away from the flock. Guys like Connor, or Altair, or even Haytham were nearly alien compared to humans. Haytham and Connor both had powerful avian fathers who kept their sons with the flock and not humans. Altair had always sided with his grandfather, always disdained their species for some trivial reason. Bill had always wanted to make Desmond morehuman even if he never would be. That included his friends, keeping them around, letting them have some time together, sometimes even turning a blind eye when they did something he didn't approve of. "I've been trying to see you for a month. Edward and Haytham keep giving me excuses."

Desmond took a half step back. "I didn't really want to see you," he said blandly, closing off as quickly as he'd given in. "I thought you wanted to talk about something, this fatherly stuff isn't the usual for you." He wasn't sure who was behind the hassle to meet up with his old friends, but it wasn't the issue here.

"I can't just want to see my son?" Bill asked, putting his hand on Desmond's shoulder.

"I'm not a kid anymore, Bill." He stressed his father's name, wings rising and unfolding somewhat when he was touched. "And I fit in, I'm doing what I'm supposed to - for the most part. You always want something else." Desmond didn't move away from his hand, but was unsettled by it.

His father didn't often touch him unless it was to steer him off somewhere or keep him from slinking away. Desmond wasn't used to it not meaning something negative.

"Maybe I just realized I should be thankful for the things I have while they're around," he squeezed Desmond's shoulder.

Desmond lifted his lip somewhat. "You couldn't have realized that sooner?" He pulled away from him a little, not quite enough to break from his grip. His wings relaxed somewhat, although he was clearly uneasy, and couldn't meet Bill's eyes. "I have training," he mumbled, the same way he mumbled every excuse he'd ever given him as a kid.

'I fell asleep,' or 'I forgot, Dad.' His shoulders even rose the way they always had, the only differences now being his age and the fact that his wings copied every motion his shoulders made.

Bill's lips went thin and he knew he was done, for now at least."Well I'm just glad you found something that makes you want to do something," he knew it was a low blow but he wasn't below it in the slightest. "You can come see me whenever you want," he patted Desmond's shoulder before taking his hand away.

Desmond pulled himself away and more or less fled back into the avian quarters. He knew Bill wanted something - he always wanted something from him. He just had no idea what it was. Honestly, Desmond thought he was pretty much useless for his father.

The limp wormed its way back into his stride and he went through his training with Rauf and Connor with a little less enthusiasm than usual. It bugged him. The entire time he spoke with his dad, it just bugged him. He was glad to be let off a little easy, and ate his lunch slowly when he was allowed to leave.

He decided it wasn't worth bothering Altair with impulsive, hardly thought out worries, and spent the rest of his afternoon keeping up his wings. Flock preening was tomorrow, which meant no one would really be doing anything other than that, and it filled the entire evening block after dinner. Desmond just let it rest in his mind and roused enough to eat dinner. He'd catch Altair after preening.

Of course, it was always easier said than done, and he ended up leaving a mess of feathers in Ed's room to catch up with him. "Altair." An entire day to mull over it, and Desmond still had nothing other than a bad feeling. He had no real idea or reason for it, just a feeling. He didn't like it anymore than the way it upset him, so he was doing what Altair berated him for not doing earlier: saying something. "Can I go with you? I want to talk about... something."

Altair was always relieved when someone else got their fingers in his feathers and picked out all the feathers or pieces of grit he physically couldn't reach because of their size. Malik was the best at it, but he wasn't averse to other people doing it either. He left shortly after Malik did, after shaking his wings a bit to get out any of the last loose feathers that might have remained. When Desmond called him from his place where he was on the door he looked back at him. "Sure," he said and then beckoned with one wing as he slipped out of Ed's room, an invitation for Desmond to follow.

Desmond was quiet for the majority of the walk to Altair's room, only speaking up at the door. "It's about... my dad." He pulled in a breath. It wasn't exactly what he wanted to think about, but he remembered pretty clearly the last time he'd been in his room. His wings pulled close, and he turned himself back to the thoughts that troubled him.

Altair looked at Desmond and then down the hall where Ed's room was, the closest to the door that led to the rest of the compound; and the humans. "Inside," he said, opening his door. He followed Desmond in and once the door was closed said: "What about Bill?"

"I don't know, it feels like he wants something from me." Desmond had picked up a place at the edge of Altair's bed rather than his spot on the floor. "He didn't mention anything about it but... he when we talked, he was never that fatherly." He cast an irritated glare at the floor, curling his toes. "And my mom didn't even care to show up. I mean, I knew she never cared, but at least she doesn't care?"

He wasn't sure if that made any sense, and shook his head a little. A part of him wanted to have someone he was actually a relative of to care, even if they were human. If Bill had done anything for him, it was instill a deep seated feeling for those he grew up with, and other than Connor, they were all human.

"He's your father," Altair said, standing in front of Desmond, wings relaxed, but arms folded across his chest, "he always wants something. Important men always want something from their children," like his grandfather had wanted from Umar, who'd been nothing in his eyes; human, and like Umar was to him. "Your father more than most though it seems," not that it wasn't true. Bill was constantly trying to meddle in flock affairs.

Desmond shifted a little, finding his blunt, kind of dirty fingernails incredibly interesting as he continued. "He said something that put me off, about my friends, and how I haven't been able to see them having something to do with... Ed and Haytham." His wings were curved around his shoulders rather than folded at his back. "I thought it was Bill's fault I couldn't find any of them to hang out with, but... I don't know."

"Avians and humans are separate," Altair said, "we always have been, since prehistory. Our species do not easily mingle except usually to have children if needed. I doubt the Kenways have kept them from you so much that they have avoided you. Humans are afraid of us, like they have some predisposed attitude to fear us, as much as they want to be near us. If you want to know you'll have to ask the Kenways, because other than them doing what they've always done I don't have an answer."

"Lucy said she wouldn't be like that," He looked up at him. "They all knew, I mean... Shaun and Dan were a little weird about it, but Clay and Becca..." Desmond rubbed his face, ending with his fingers laced at the back of his head. "I don't know anymore. Connor and I are good friends, better since we're both like this now, but... I don't want to lose my other friends just because of... of a stupid stigma."

It had been fine before his wings, everything had been fine. They got thrown into the mix, and he became, undeniably, an avian, and a lot of things went to shit. It felt like everything had, but Desmond knew that wasn't entirely true. "I get that I'm an avian, and I have always been, I get that, but who decided I'm suddenly not the same Desmond that they're friends with?"

"You did," Altair said. "I've always been the same. Unlike you though I never had any attachments to humans. I have always been avian, even before my wings came in. You were trying to be both, but you aren't. Things change Desmond, even if you don't like it and you can't always stop it. It isn't like you can go back to who you were, your friends probably know that. They know you're not the Desmond they knew. You're different," after all Altair had watched Desmond change before his eyes. In less than a month he'd gone from fit, if slightly oddly muscled, human to an avian who was going to have back muscles like a weightlifter and muscled legs to support the impact of landing. Desmond was as close to feral as Altair had ever seen someone, with bird noises and chirps. Altair couldn't remember doing that himself, maybe Malik had but he couldn't remember. The fact though was that Desmond had changed, and he wasn't the same Desmond Miles who'd been friends with humans.

His feathers puffed out and actually bristled. Desmond knew Altair was right, and that was what made him angry. That he knew himself. "I hate them. I hate my wings, but losing them would kill me, and I hate that." He really only hated them at times like these, but it didn't change that there were points where he really believed he would have been better off without them.

Desmond's emotions were much clearer through his wings than his face, and he couldn't hide that. He didn't want to believe that he was that different, because deep down, it was a drastic change that happened all too quickly. The fear showed just as clearly in his wings as his anger appeared. He thought it was petty and absolutely unfair, and he had no way of controlling it.

"Oh Des," Altair sighed and stepped closer to him, his wings came up and wrapped around him, comforting him like he knew they did. Then he put his hands on Desmond's shoulders, pushing through recently cleaned feather and pulled him closer, so Desmond's head rested against the lower part of his chest. "Don't hate them," he said softly and ran the fingers of his scarred hand through Desmond's hair, much like he had while helping some of the others with Desmond's forever messy wings.

He all but clung to the other avian, fingers fitting into the lines of muscle down Altair's back. Desmond was fine with getting pressed up against him, it meant he didn't have to try that hard not to look like he wanted to break down and cry. "But I feel like it sometimes."

The wings around him and fingers in his hair did wonders, and the tense set of his shoulders melted while a soft sighing kind of sound repeated itself a few times before he regained control of his breathing.

"They're a wonder," Altair told him, because he himself believed this. He'd been born wishing he could fly, like all humans did. But unlike humans one day he'd be able to. "We are wonders of evolution," an evolution no one could really... explain. Avians had appeared in the fossil record suddenly and with little warning. It was like at some point in human evolution there weren't avians, and then all at once; there they were. "You shouldn't hate that," he continued to card his fingers through Desmond's hair, a comforting hand on his upper back where neck met spine, and his wings pressed in close around him. Altair might not have been the best person to imprint on, but he did his best. And at the very least he could do this.

Desmond tipped his head back to look up at him, mostly to force the hand that was combing through his short hair to cradle his skull. He might have felt a little embarrassed in any other situation when his next sighing exhale was chased by cooing.

"I... don't, really," he mumbled after a while, almost too lazy to tip his head forward to look away. In pretty much one minute's time, he'd been calmed down and it hadn't taken much. His fingers relaxed, nails no longer digging quite so hard into Altair's back. Desmond didn't really want to ask Altair to let him go, either, even when it became less about calming down and more about just being there.

Altair chuckled a little, "Doesn't mean you aren't," he said, kneading the back of Desmond's neck a little. "We're made to be wonders," he smirked, that was how he thought of it anyway. Even the feral avians were respected and for the most part left alone, with massive wing spans for flying. He'd heard they had claws, or talons, though most people stayed away from them since as the name feral implied, they were wild and either attacked anything that came near, or just flew away. But they were amazing. "Got it?" he asked him.

It was strange, Altair was giving words to the feelings he got from the artifacts, without ever having heard them. Desmond offered a smile and nodded. "Got it," he replied, even though he leaned against Altair's chest again, eyes closed.

So he was milking it for what it was. Desmond had no way of knowing when he could enjoy Altair being so gentle with him. His hands ended up somewhere around the lower half of Altair's back before he finally kept them to himself.

"Good," Altair said and honestly he was just glad to have helped at all. Desmond could be a finicky thing when it came to asking for help or looking for someone to comfort him. Though really Altair didn't blame him, not like he got a lot of practice with either of those things with Bill. He was just sort of expected to be okay at all times. Altair wasn't a really touchy feely guy, that was Rauf of Yusuf's departments, but he was the imprintee, he had to deal with it and would. He was glad he hadn't fucked it up.

He wrung his hands in his lap. "Can I... get a kiss before I go?" Desmond asked with a nervous, little smile, wings folded properly behind him. He wasn't going to push his luck, and he wasn't going to lie, he didn't really want anything more than that. It reminded him of when he was younger, and stole little kid's kisses from him, pecks on the cheek before running off laughing. It was a stupid, short-lived habit that died before he was seven, and he began seeking attention in other ways.

Altair didn't sigh. He was close to doing so, but didn't. He tried really hard to avoid this since Altair didn't really... do emotional attachment. He wasn't very good at it and found the back and forth tiresome. He knew Desmond was attached, knew he was still emotionally invested. Altair just didn't want to hand him a knife and say not to stab himself with it. Or maybe not eat candy when handed to him was a better analogy, though Desmond would be the one out of any of them to stab himself on accident.

"Okay," Altair said, "but that's it," he added, a bit stern. When Desmond nodded he leaned down, cantered Desmond's head just so, his hand still on the back of his neck, and kissed him.

Desmond pressed into the kiss, wings spreading slightly behind him. He opened his mouth, licking Altair's bottom lip before sinking back against his hand. His breath was still slow, and he wasn't going to ask for more even though it was pretty clear he wasn't averse to it.

Altair ran his fingers through Desmond's hair once, twice, and then pulled his mouth away, even if some part of him begged to suck his lower lip, just to see it become redden. He'd given a kiss but that was all he was giving. "There you go," Altair said softly and took his hands off Desmond, pulling his wings back behind him. "You should go to your room," before he made it even harder for Desmond to walk.

He stood up, his own wings shuffling and folding. "I might be in a compromising position if you feel like showing up after lunch tomorrow," Desmond offered, voice low. He made his exit more like an escape before he got too embarrassed with the proposition. Sure, he was a little aroused now, but it was late, and he knew that the moment he got to his bed, exhaustion would win out over his teenage dick. It just meant he was going to need something else later.

Altair physically could not stop his eyes from following Desmond as he left the room. It was like they were drawn to his back by a magnet. Then the door closed, shutting Altair off from Desmond and leaving Altair with just the reminder of Desmond's scent and the words he'd said.

Shit.


	9. Gentle Company

WOAH there friend, there isn't a chapter here. There is a new chapter

but

you can't read it here

why?

Well cause this website doesn't allow for mature content and lemmie tell you: this chapter is _full_ of mature content. You can find the chapter in full on AO3 (please don't ask me what that is, google is your friend here) under the same story name as this one.

Happy reading


	10. Plucking and Punishment

Desmond hadn't bothered smoothing his feathers down, they'd only get ruffled again training with Yusuf. He focused on that, and quickly forgot about his irritation, which was so easy with the repetitive, complicated motions of the training, mostly muscle and wing control. He'd forgotten about it so well that it didn't come back to mind at all in the next few weeks, not even while stealing or sharing kisses from Altair.

Kissing - or God forbid, cuddling - was becoming more and more often something Desmond wanted rather than sex. He certainly still enjoyed hanging around Altair, and definitely liked touching him, but it was a lot less about his dick, and more about being there. It might have had something to do with his fledgeling scent finally beginning to fade, or that he'd gotten into a habit of going to the archive at least once a day, even though it made him want to sing. Usually to Altair.

He stopped leaving the avian side of the compound, and spent roughly equal time in his room and in Altair's room when Desmond could convince him to let him stay. It was on Altair's bed that he began to pick through his feathers, finding the ones that were the first few to grow in as firmer, flying feathers. Nothing out of the ordinary that he could see. He hoped he could skip going to the archive.

Altair was coming out of the shower, wiping the back of his neck when he realized he wasn't alone. He looked up sharply. "Desmond!" he barked, irritation flashing through him for an instant. "Haven't I fucking told you not to come in here without asking?" because damnit he hated being snuck up on or surprises when he was in a vulnerable position; like the shower.

He'd just come from some after dinner practice with Malik, who, despite lacking two limbs, could still give him a good workout. He'd wanted to wash and go to sleep and now Desmond was in here, getting his feathers everywhere. He was starting to molt and his wings were huge, there were feathers everywhere and they would be for quite a while. He wasn't keen on a feather bed right now.

He had his back to Altair, and didn't turn when he was berated for not asking permission. The wing he wasn't checking flicked up a bit at the wrist, like a thoughtless wave of his hand. There was a glitter between his feathers when he moved. Since moving, there were a few more made visible, but a shake of his feathers hid them when they settled.

"I'm not making a mess," Desmond answered, and he wasn't. He kept each loose feather close and in his lap. "Besides, you were busy in the shower and I didn't want to wait until you finally finished." Not that Altair took long showers, and not that Desmond had been in there for a long time, but he had been able to sneak up on Altair from time to time. He'd even managed while Altair wasn't otherwise occupied in the shower too.

Altair sighed and gave him an annoyed look at the back of his head. "I was going to go to sleep. So get, unless you have pressing matters. Malik and I were about it today," and indeed Altair was tender, new bruises, appearing on his flesh from their training a bit ago. He just wanted to take some painkillers, pull on some underwear, and go to sleep.

Desmond turned toward Altair, carefully scooting to the edge of the bed with his lapful of feathers. "Don't want my company at all today?" He asked, head ever so slightly tipped to the side. He knew Altair didn't like a mess, and always made sure to keep it in control, especially since he began molting.

His cheeks puffed out a bit, and he looked over Altair's fresh bruises. "I get it if you want space and all, we do spend a lot of time together."

Altair wasn't in the best mood today. It was why he and Malik had beat the shit out of each other. Ed had given him some annoying news and he was preparing for it. He had a while but he still didn't like it. So that was why he was a little snippy, "I see you all the damn time. I could stand to not see your face every night," even if he did normally not mind.

He'd been trying to be better about that. Desmond stole more kisses than Altair gave out, though he didn't mind, and he kept his hands to himself. He was trying not to be the one who ruined their fledgling. As it was all the bruises and bite marks on Desmond's skin had faded and except for his training he was unmarked.

"You look like you're the one who has something to talk about." He frowned at Altair, getting off of the bed to dispose of the loose feathers without getting them everywhere. Desmond gave a half sigh, mostly talking to himself, "I usually do all the talking though. Shame."

And all the asking for kisses, or to just lay there beside him. Of course, he'd simply stopped asking after a few days and just did, but Altair never started anything Desmond hadn't practically had to coax out of him. At least, he hadn't been surprised with a kiss once yet. He moved back over to Altair despite the scowl on his face, and planted a chaste little kiss on his cheek. "Especially since I miss feeling that hickey you put under my jaw." Somewhere along the line, he thought it had the capacity to ease the tension - which he could see in Altair's shoulders. It didn't occur it would probably just spark more.

Altair visibly stiffened, his wings coming in tight for a moment. His eyes narrowed a little. He didn't have the fucking capacity for this today. He was going to either send Desmond away or push him onto the bed and hurt him like he sometimes hurt Ezio when they'd fucked, before they got tired of each other too. He put his hand on Desmond's chest and pushed him back, "Not today," he said, voice short and stern. "I have too much on my mind to play nice with you tonight," He was being so good. He didn't want to break that streak of being good and keeping Desmond at mostly arms' length.

"Forget I said anything about that. We don't have to do anything either." Desmond backed off though, taking a few steps back. "I meant what I said about talking to me, you know. It's only fair, because I talk to you enough." He really didn't like seeing Altair stressed.

Altair sighed and rubbed his face, "Desmond," he said, more like growled honestly, "leave. I just want to go to sleep. I don't have the God damn patience for anyone, including you. So do us both a favor and leave before I do something we'll both regret."

Clearly, Desmond didn't want to go. He didn't want to push it, and decided it wasn't the time to be a snippy asshole right back, even though biting his tongue was hard.

"You know where I am," he sighed, and then closed Altair's door behind himself. That was probably all there would be to it though. Desmond bit his lip, not liking the feeling of uneasiness that bubbled up from his stomach. Uselessness was less important but another feeling that also clung to his gut.

Altair sighed once Desmond left and got ready for bed. He didn't sleep though and just sat in bed, his head between his knees, hands on the back of his head. His wings formed a feathery shell around him. He stayed like that until sleep claimed his restless mind and his internal clock shut off. He missed normal wake up time and only woke sometime around lunch. When he did wake he felt disorientated and hungry. He got out of bed, stumbled into a pair of sweats, and staggered to the cafeteria.

Desmond was eating with Connor, the both of them silent in a mess hall full of voices. Talking came secondary, the both of them were too busy eating. He knew pretty much instantly when Altair made it into the cafeteria, and glanced up. He also knew that the feeling of having to tiptoe on glass around him was probably all just in his head and nothing to worry himself over. Desmond never knew Altair to wake up that late, though, and believed he was allowed to worry about him, even a little. Though he had been a colossal dick last night.

Altair's nose led him first to the food and then to where their young avians were still eating their lunch. Usually the rest of the flock got in and out as fast as possible but Connor and Desmond ate about three times as much food as the adults, to keep up with their still expanding muscles and bones and molting feathers. Altair sat down heavily across from the two youngest avians and looked at them with sleep deprived, half lidded, eyes.

"Morning," he sighed, he still felt exhausted. He was still pissed about what Ed had told him. Ed said his hands were tied on the matter. Bill had said Altair specifically for the thing. Even though he knew Altair hated it. Hated being at the beck and call of the humans, hated leaving his flock, hated not having Desmond at least within reasonable sight. He just hated everything about it. Nothing Ed or Haytham could do though. Sometimes they had to pay for having it so good and not be cast out like the wild ferals. Every now and then even an avian had to come to heel to the humans who gave them everything they needed or desired.

Under the table, Desmond lifted his feet, prodding Altair's ankles with his toes. He'd stopped wearing shoes a long time ago, even when he trained outside. Because of that, he kept them pretty damn clean when he had the chance, often tracking wet footprints into the compound after rinsing his feet from practice.

He paused his endeavor to eat his weight in food to return Altair's greeting, verbally, at least. He took the chance to finish off his drink too. "Hi Alty." Desmond had stopped fumbling over what he called Altair as well. Casually, he was almost always Alty, unless he was singing, because for some reason, his full name rolled off his tongue just as easily as the strange language.

Altair was too tired to care about his boundaries this morning and simply lifted his foot, rolling it over to place on top of Desmond's. His toes moved against Desmond's skin as he ate, but didn't make further conversation. He'd slept last night, but barely. it felt like, possibly it was the position he'd slept in, his back hurt from it still. He had about two weeks to get his shit together and prepare. He'd done his angry thing the day before, and sulked last night, he just needed some rest and food and he'd be back to himself; he'd deal with it.

Desmond cast him a second, quizzical glance, and then returned to his food. He didn't speak until after he finished. "You sleep at all?" Desmond asked quietly, attention mostly focused on the empty plate.

He shuffled his wings, foot settling under Altair's. Honestly, he kind of looked like shit.

"Not really," Altair yawned. "Mind your own business kid," and he lifted his foot off of Desmond's and got up. "You two get to training," he said to Connor and Desmond and took his plate away to be cleaned.

He was going to get pretty fed up with Altaïr, though it kind of was how he acted all the time. Desmond kept his frown to himself. They had time before getting back to training, and he decided to just sit there.

Connor got up when he was done, nudging Desmond with his wing to prompt him to get up. "I'll meet you outside in a bit," he said. He knew he could probably vent to Connor, and he'd listen, but he hadn't checked through his feathers yet. The longer Desmond went without doing so, the more paranoid he got about the strange feathers.

Desmond slipped away himself, and returned to the archive. He took a moment, staring at the lines and geometric designs radiating around the lock. All of this time, and he still had no idea how he managed to unlock the door. It clicked under his fingers and Desmond let himself in, waiting for the door to close heavily behind him.

Atair went back to his room and realized really what time it was. He didn't realize it was so late. He rubbed his head and put on some real clothes and then fell on his bed. He was still tired. He lay on his stomach for a little while and took a nap. Then he pulled himself together and went out to the training area for the avians, which was outside. One of the few outside places in the compound, because the place was meant to kept people in more than keep people out sometimes it seemed. Rauf was out there with Yusuf, Rauf picking through some of his ashy feathers.

"Altair," Rauf said in greeting as Altair got closer to them.

"Hey," Altair fanned his wings out wide, stretching them all the way out, the way he couldn't when he was inside. His bones cracked a little and he sighed. Like most of them his wingspan was huge, more than twice his actual height. He flapped a little, kicking up some dust. "I need some flying," he said. Rauf's brows went up in interest.

"Really?" normally flying wasn't a big deal, they'd do it whenever. But for Altair specifically coming out here for flying training meant he was going to be flying a long way. "You want weights?" Rauf asked him.

"Not yet. Been a while," he hadn't done much flying since Desmond's wings had come in.

"Okay, meet you at the top of the tower when you're ready," he smiled at Altair, brushed his gray wing against Yusuf's and headed for the wooden tower that rose a good fifty feet above the ground of the training area. At the top of the scaffold tower was a platform to jump off of to get the right lift.

Altair watched Rauf a second before stretching his big wings out to their full extent. Ed had the biggest wings of the flock, and Haytham the smallest. Altair's were big though, and he could fly. He was looking forward to that again.

Desmond returned in time to see Altair climbing the scaffolding. He was two feathers less, but it was a small change, nothing noticeable.

"You two should watch. The both of you will be practicing and learning to fly in no time at all." Yusuf smiled, standing off to the side. He was also watching, though with less excitement than Desmond. Connor, on the other hand, watched to learn what he could from the ground, though it was pretty straight forward. Neither of them had ever seen an avian fly.

Up at the top of the scaffold there was a good head wind that tugged at Altair and Rauf's wings, pulling them back and if they didn't resist, open against their will and fling them off the tower. All avians needed some sort of height or wind to achieve lift off, only maybe Ed had the wing span for powered lift off, but his wings weren't made for it. They were made for gliding, and not much flapping.

"So I heard about it," Rauf said, keeping his gray wings tight as possible to his back.

"Don't wanna talk about it," Altair grunted. "Just set the course," he gave Rauf a look. Rauff had fairly small wings, but he was outrageously muscular. That meant even though his wings seemed almost too small to support him they weren't and he had the quickest turns of the entire flock, not needing to even bank without losing lift, he could just zip around like a sparrow. It was why he was teaching Connor and Desmond to fly, since you could say he did it the best. At the very least he was the most agile in it.

"Alright," Rauf said and jumped off the tower. Altair followed after, their arms outstretched beside them. Rauf's wings snapped open quickly and started to pump, catching an updraft and gaining altitude. Altair's wings were bigger and thus slower but they opened well before he was close to the ground. The tips of Altair's fingers brushed the underside of his gray and sandy wings before pulling his arms and his wings down. The first few flaps it helped to have every muscle in your chest and back moving, to get the full force of your wings against the wind.

Altair closed his eyes as he started to rise, the wind on his face. Really flying was nothing but saying fuck you to gravity and pushing down on the air, constantly falling but at enough speed so you never actually did. His feathers shifted in a way he was familiar with and he banked, catching the thermal from the top of the compound and soared upwards. Altair opened his eyes and lowered his arms a bit at the same time. Rauf was waiting for him up there, sort of hovering in place, his wings beating so fast they were a blur. Rauf was the only one able to hover like that too, small body, right shaped wings, and extremely muscular.

"Ready to go?" Rauf called over the wind, since up here- Connor, Desmond, and Yusuf's looked like toy soldiers below- the wind was strong.

"You lead," Altair called back. Rauf grinned and then took off. Altair followed quickly, his great wings pumping.

The longing to be up there on those winds was a deep, instinctual one. Desmond's wings shuffled, and he still looked up, watching Altair's form shrink as he drifted away on the hot, rising air. Yusuf had to shove him gently to catch his attention.

"There is still work to do, Desmond. You can't expect to do that without figuring all of this out." Yusuf pulled out one of Desmond's wings, prompting him to unfold the other as well. He ran him through the minute muscle movements once, and then had him and Connor practice that until they became reactions to the wind. Other than that, it got them used to keeping the rather heavy limbs outstretched and self-supported for endurance.

Desmond couldn't help glancing up from time to time to spot Altair against the sky. It didn't take much for Yusuf to startle him, pushing through his primaries. "What? Sorry-" Desmond spread them apart again.

"You've been missing your fourth primary for days. Have you looked into that?"  
He hesitated, picking up on Yusuf's concern. Desmond looked to Connor, but he'd gone off to do his own thing, and would be of no use to him. Yeah, no, he'd climbed up in that gnarly old tree again. It wasn't tall enough to jump from for lift, but it got enough wind that it was worth climbing up to stand against it. His eyes flicked back to Yusuf. "...No...? I thought it came in already."

Yusuf's mouth twisted a little. It certainly wasn't a smile, but it wasn't exactly a frown. He'd pulled that fluffy primary the last time the flock preened. "You need to pay attention to your wings. If a feather doesn't come in, it could be ingrown, infected, or worse, and I won't be around all the time to check them for you." His expression softened when Desmond winced. He parted Desmond's feathers to get to the actual limb within the feathers. It was a little red compared to the surrounding follicles, though without a trace of blood. In fact, he could already see a replacement coming in, shaft poking out. "You've been plucking it, haven't you."

Desmond didn't even need to respond.

Altair narrowed his eyes as he dove after Rauf, nearly knocking him out of the air when they almost collided. Which was of course, the point. There were two types among avians, ones like Altair which had big wings like eagles, most common, and then ones with smaller wings, like sparrows, like Rauf. Most with Rauf's wings couldn't fly, like Haytham or Malik, their wings too small to support them in real flight. Rauf was an exception because he was so small. Rauf got out of the way before Altair crashed into him, they both would have gone down if that happened.

He didn't know how long they'd been up here but neither of them were even winded. This was play for them; fun. "Don't be so rough," Rauf called over the wind, sort of hovering again.

"Sorry!" that used to be a word he had to force out of his mouth.

"Again?" Rauf asked.

"Again."

"Keep up this time big bird," and Rauf made a face at him, Altair scowled and followed when Rauf suddenly dived. Altair adjusted the set of his wings expertly, knowing exactly how to angle them to get the most speed he could and not lose control. They dived at the ground where Desmond and Yusuf were standing and then about fifteen feet above their heads Rauf pulled upward quickly. Altair needed twenty feet but he managed to make the rapid turn and flapped with wings and arms to regain altitude, following Rauf back through the sky. He caught an updraft to catch up quicker and rolled when Rauf did. Thankfully unlike real eagles avians had a finer control over their bodies, but they still had to be careful.

They rose higher and higher and higher into the sky, the top of the compound becoming small. They were at cloud level and up here they were both panting heavily, their lungs working to keep their bodies full of enough oxygen to sustain flight at this altitude. Rauf hovered, his wing beats a big slower than before. Altair curved around him. "Any higher?" Rauf called.

Altair looked up at the bottom of the clouds, his skin was at once sweating and freezing. He was a bit too out of practice to maintain this altitude. His lungs not up for it. "Take us on a course," Altair called as he was banking behind Rauf, adjusting his wings every few seconds to not fall out of the sky, to maintain speed. Rauf nodded and dropped, not as fast as before, and Altair followed. The course was full of turns that for Altair was nearly impossible with his huge wings, but he kept up.

Desmond ducked, hearing the two diving bodies hurtling through the air. Yusuf, on the other hand, stood firm, feathers ruffled by the air Rauf and Altair displaced when their wings pumped to regain altitude and fly off again. "Is there a reason you pluck it?" He waited for Desmond to recollect himself before walking around him to inspect his wings. Yusuf was curious now. If he was plucking one, were there others he hadn't noticed, or was there something wrong with them?

He shook his head, watching Yusuf circle him and poke at his feathers.

"Your primaries-"

"Are the most important flight feathers, yeah, I know."

"Birds might be able to get away with missing primaries and still be able to fly, but you're not a two pound bird," Yusuf continued after Desmond interrupted him. "That's one feather less of your surface area, and that much more work. Your wings aren't small, either." He wasn't going to tell him not to pluck his own feathers. Desmond wasn't exactly a fledgeling anymore, and he certainly wasn't a child. "Besides, I know it hurts. It looked a little swollen."

He turned his attention to Connor, voice carrying easily as he called him over. Big lungs and a strong diaphragm made that pretty simple. Talking about how to move in the air and practicing on the ground was entirely different than actually doing it in the air. "How about we see how much air you'll catch, Connor? Don't give me that look, I know you're trying to glide from the tree when you don't think anyone else is out here. You know there's a lower platform for that on the tower?"

Connor had frowned a bit, but followed Yusuf.

"Yeah, Connor, you kind of crashed last time." They both had, and Desmond more so than Connor simply because his wings were about as useful as two giant cotton balls, but they had both still hit the ground like relatively large, winged rocks. The comment earned him a sharp look from Connor, thrown over his shoulder. Desmond shrugged. "What, it's true!"

Once they'd run the high course Altair was starting to feel the strain in his wings and muscles, panting heavily. Damn he didn't realize he was so fucking out of practice. "Rauf!" he yelled over the wind, throwing his voice as far forward as possible. Rauf made a move impossible for Altair or most anyone really and made a swift, one hundred and eighty degree turn in only a few motions. "We're done," he called.

"Tired you out did I?" Rauf laughed, though to Altair's credit Rauf was also breathing heavily, though not nearly as laboured as Altair.

"Yeah you did shrimp!" Altair cried and Rauf laughed. They started the slow corkscrew down to the compound and the tower.

"You wanna talk about it?" Rauf asked, coming in close to and on top of Altair, though not close enough to touch.

"No," Altair said shortly.

"Okay," Altair liked Rauf for that, he didn't push or prod or try to make you uncomfortable. He just let it be.

Desmond had leaned himself against the scaffolding while Yusuf and Connor climbed. His wings were folded at his sides rather than behind him, and he was looking over his feathers. In all honesty, he had known that someone would bring up his perpetually missing feathers at some point. He was irritated and pretty unhappy when he moved his feathers aside to check the follicle himself, only to find it was already coming back in. He'd pulled it out that day, and it seemed like it was just continually growing back, and faster than most of his young feathers, which often took a day or more. It had hardly been four hours, and the sheath was already visible.

Yusuf had been right about it hurting, though it was kind of like a less painful papercut. It only hurt when he thought about it, and immediately after he pulled it out. Desmond sighed, looking up to watch Connor and Yusuf. He got distracted by Rauf and Altair lazily circling back down to the ground.

"Hey Rauf-

"Don't even think about it," Rauf knew exactly what Altair wanted to do. He gave Altair a stern look, Altair just smiled ruefully.

"Or what?" Altair asked.

"My wings may be little, but they'll hurt if I smack you with them," Rauf threatened.

"All right all right," Altair waved him off, grinning. They kept coasting down, watching as Yusuf and Connor got onto the lower platform on the tower.

Yusuf had Connor spread his wings and move his feathers to catch and control the wind that met them, talking him through the process specific to gliding, though it was pretty self explanatory. "... Feathers spread to get the most air under your wings."

Desmond caught bits and pieces of what Yusuf said. He moved away from the tower to spread his own wings, missing primary glaringly obvious now that he was hyper-aware of it. Flapping did a whole load of nothing, aside from kicking up dust, and he folded them back up. He had energy he wanted to burn.

"Altair! I want to talk to you when Connor and I are finished!" Yusuf called out to him when he and Rauf neared their lower altitude. Desmond knew it also meant he would have to stay behind, if the look thrown down at him meant anything.

Altair sighed. Oh that wasn't a good sign. If Yusuf needed to 'talk to him' it meant something was wrong. And if it was here, it meant it was something wrong with Desmond. God damnit. Couldn't he just have these two weeks when nothing went wrong?

He didn't yell down to Yusuf and banked away from the tower. "Altair-

"I'm not leavin'," Altair called back to Rauf. "I just don't wanna deal with it as long as possible," he frowned in annoyance.

Desmond wasn't any happier than Altair was, but he waited there while Connor took a running jump from the platform and caught the air under his wings the way they were supposed to. Yusuf followed suit, and guided him toward the hay strewn across the far side of the field. There were times when it was cut and piled up, but at the moment the field was mostly covered. It was still softer to land in. Either way, Connor didn't have much trouble meeting the ground again, flapping to slow down and control his angle in the air.

He waited for Yusuf to make his way back, and waved to Connor, who knew he'd probably get an earful about it over dinner. In return, Desmond would probably get even more of an earful about flying - it was only a glide, but when Yusuf let him know he could continue to practice, he was climbing back up the scaffolding within minutes.

Desmond met Yusuf halfway, wings at a low angle. "I can talk to Altair about it myself, Yusuf... Besides, he's been... pissy." He didn't think it was a good idea, or good time.

Yusuf honestly could have rolled his eyes. Honestly, watching the two of them was like watching a bad soap opera every week, and wondering why he tormented himself with coming back to it again and again without fail. "Only when he doesn't get something he wants. Or... he's forced to do something he doesn't want." He shrugged. "It needs to be done, and he's the only one who spends enough time with you to make sure you don't keep plucking it." And also the only one who could convince Desmond to do or not do something without fail. "And you are notorious for putting things off. Relax, it won't be so bad."

Altair frowned when Connor landed and knew he had to suck it up. With a big sigh he flared his wings, tipping them to make him go down. He landed on the ground lightly a few minutes later, having to take a few quick steps to check all of his forward momentum. He ran his hand through his hair a few times to get it to sort of behave but knowing it probably didn't do much good, and backtracked to Yusuf and Desmond.

He was still short of breath when he got to them. "What he do now?" because he had no illusions as to what Yusuf needed to talk about and he sent Desmond a look, only clearly saying 'let the grown ups talk' because he could already see every excuse coming into Desmond's mind. If he could, Desmond would try to get out of it. Meaning Altair was paying closer attention now.

Desmond scowled at the look, already getting defensive. He didn't want to talk now, already feeling shut down with just that look. He didn't know, but Yusuf was giving Altair a similar, irritated expression.

"You know he's missing feathers, right?" Yusuf knew Altair wasn't the best imprintee, but that didn't mean he could just ignore what was required of him. As much as Desmond was supposed to talk to Altair, Altair was supposed to make sure Desmond kept talking to him.

"Missing?" Altair blinked, "I thought they hadn't just come in yet," Altair looked right at the primary missing in Desmond's wing. Altair still had his wings fanned out, to cool them and him after flying with Rauf and he knew they could make him look more angry than he was. But he also wasn't going to fold them up, too much blood pumping fast and hot through his body, he'd overheat.

"Every time I see him he's missing that one," because it was the most obvious. "I was going to ask him about it before... the thing," he knew Yusuf knew what the thing was, but they didn't usually talk about stuff like that in front of the younger avians. "I got distracted." He turned to Desmond, "Are you plucking?" because why the hell would he do that?

His wings were half folded around him until Yusuf held out the more obviously lacking wing. Desmond stared at Altair, though it was more of a sideways kind of glance. He wanted to turn away from him. "I am." He had no idea what 'the thing' was, and kind of didn't care. Desmond wanted to just go, just leave.

Yusuf more or less held him there. Neither of them probably wanted him to be standing there while they talked, but he knew the flight response in Desmond before the kid even realized that's what it was, and he wanted to be sure it looked like it could be resolved without his presence before he actually did leave.

"Why?" Altair was more concerned than anything. You couldn't fly without all your primaries, especially with wings like Desmond's who looked like they would be truly massive. Like the size of Ed's wings. "You know you shouldn't. What's wrong?" his brow furrowed. Honestly he'd thought something like they were just slower to come in than the rest of them. But now... Desmond was actively pulling them out.

His tense posture faded, and he was left feeling a little uncomfortable with Yusuf as a third party. "They're not normal." Desmond pulled his wing back when Yusuf let it go, and drew it snugly against his back. "It. It isn't." There were three that he could actively reach, but he'd only been called out on one of them, and would have liked it to remain at one feather.

There were a few he couldn't reach, but could see, and mostly just... kept his feathers down and hoped they didn't show.

Altair cocked his head to the side. He hadn't missed the slip, he knew Desmond too well. If there was only one he wouldn't have used the plural. "You're plucking more than one feather? Desmond, your feathers are still coming in, we don't even know what color they'll be. Rauf has wings that change color and Yusuf's are iridescent blue. Whatever you think isn't normal I'm sure is fine. So really, why the hell are you plucking?"

"The other ones are dark." And they were, dark, and lightly banded. "They're... uh. Gold."

Yusuf's brows rose, but he kept his mouth shut, skeptical.

Desmond fidgeted. Even his feathers moved. "I'll show you, I'm not lying just to make up an excuse." He didn't want Altair to think he'd ended up hating his wings again.

Altair frowned and looked at Yusuf, then back at him, "I think I'll take him off your hands," because he saw Desmond seemed more ill at ease with Yusuf around. It was one thing to tell Altair, Desmond sort of wanted to tell Altar things, it was another to tell Yusuf. "You're showing me these feathers, right now," he ordered.

Yusuf turned with a nod, against all of his burning curiosity. He respected Altair, though, and their hierarchy was important, though not entirely absolute. "Don't forget to talk to him yourself," he said, far from forceful. It was just a part of what he did, apart from knowing everything there was to know about every tidbit of gossip worthy information. He was a mediator and caretaker.

Desmond wasn't quite infinitely thankful to Altair for having Yusuf leave, but he was made slightly more comfortable. His fingers twitched as if he was going to grab Altair's wrist. He didn't, hooking his thumb into his pocket. "... Alright."

His walk was similar to a shuffle as he returned to the compound. Rather than rinse the dust from his feet, he wiped them, wings spreading a little to balance himself. There was a rare smattering of the oddly bright feathers near his back, where they blended in a little better with the light fledgeling feathers. Inside, Desmond walked quickly, leading Altair to the archive. He heaved a sigh and pressed his hand over the lock, eyes flickering.

Altair just wore a frown as he followed Desmond and his brow creased and furrowed when the archive door opened. It took him a second but then he saw the small collection of shimmering, golden, feathers on the ground. Several of them were long primaries.

Altair went over to them and picked up one of the primaries, it wasn't fully grown, he could tell just by looking at it. Desmond had pulled it out before it reached full length. He turned it in his fingers and looked at Desmond in confusion. "Why would you pull these out?" he asked.

"Look at them, they're fucking golden. It's not like they're yellow or orange, they're glittery and obvious and I thought they wouldn't grow back like that but..." His wings lowered behind him, and the door closed heavily, locking automatically. "They do, and they grow back fast."

Desmond crouched down, gathering up the feathers. A couple of them were basically fully grown, one of them being one of his primaries, and it was a monstrous thing. It was comparable to the length of his arm. More than a foot and a half of almost iridescent gold, lighter at the base, and darker, more orange at the tip.

"They're beautiful," Altair said, still confused as he turned one of them slowly in his fingers. He looked down at the one he was holding. "I don't know... why you would pull them out," he frowned at Desmond. "Are you feeling bad about them again?" meaning his wings and how Desmond said he hadn't wanted them. "I don't... understand the thought process behind plucking them."

He stared at him, head tipped. "I'm not... supposed to have them," Desmond said slowly, as if he wasn't sure of his own reason anymore. It seemed like everything he did to avoid attention just brought it back tenfold. "I was going to ask if it was normal..." He never did. And then he found himself apologizing.

"Feathers come in all sorts," Altair said, "and yours are just coming in. You don't know what your wings are even going to look like," he picked up another golden feather. He looked at Desmond, frowning in concern mostly. "Stop pulling your feathers out. I'm going to check to make sure you aren't. Even if they were strange, which they aren't," though maybe the color was a bit, Altair had never heard of an avian with golden feathers, but then the only avians Altair knew were in his flock. He didn't have a whole lot to go on.

"You're not helping yourself by taking them out. It just costs you more in the long run of having to regrow them. So just let them come in. If you're plucking them," he didn't really know what honestly. He'd bring it to Edward for starters. "I'll bring it up with the Kenways if this gets out of hand Desmond," not that he wanted to, but when Desmond was pulling out some of his biggest feathers; it was sort of a big deal and he didn't know really how to deal with it.

Desmond was far from convinced, but he said he'd stop pulling them out, even though they were really pretty. He sat back, crossing his legs. "They take... less than a day to grow back," Desmond murmured, petting through the feathers on his wings. He pulled them back to show the missing primary.

"Then stop fighting your body, idiot," Altair scowled at him a little. "Clearly it's trying to keep your wings fully formed. Is this why you've been losing fewer downy feathers the past week or so?" which was when he'd noticed the first time Desmond was missing a primary, though it wasn't exactly easy since Desmond's wings were still mostly down.

He shrugged. It was better than any guess he would have had. "It hurts to keep pulling them out anyway." Desmond looked away, at the artifacts holed up around the room. He let go of his wings, folding and angling them awkwardly to continue sitting on the floor. There was a quiet hum at the back of his throat.

"Good," Altair said and gently tapped Desmond under the chin with his own long, golden, feather. "Until I have to go I'm going to make sure they're coming in properly though," he'd get someone else to do it when he left. Yusuf, or Malik maybe. Someone who would just give Desmond a quick once over, make sure his golden feathers were growing in.

Desmond's attention snapped back to Altair, the sound dying. "Are... you gonna tell me anything about that? Going? Where?" That wasn't the kind of response a fledgeling would have hearing the one they imprinted on had to go for a while, or at least, not the response one who was feathering, and nearly out of that stage, would have.

He was clearly uncomfortable with the idea of Altair not being in the compound for any amount of time, even though he was supposed to be becoming more independent. Desmond got to his knees, wings low beside him so that he could actually sit somewhat comfortably. It gave his lower back a slight arch that propped him up even straighter.

"No, I'm not," Altair said and used the feather to tap Desmond lightly on the nose. "It's just some stuff I have to deal with, no one likes it; but we deal with it," he sighed and drew his hand and feather back to him and looked it over again. Why the hell Bill had picked him he didn't know. He knew Des had imprinted on him and should be kept around, if only until the last of Desmond's wings had come in.

The answer Altair didn't want to admit to was that Bill was an overly protective, vindictive, dad who'd figured out Altair was the one who'd fucked his kid. Outside of the flock it was impossible for most humans to tell. But it was Bill. He'd probably figured it out and it had taken him till now to get Altair away from Desmond, at least for a while. It would take him a long time to get back, just because of what he had to do, where he had to go, and the fact that he was flying to get there. He'd be gone for weeks and wouldn't come back till well after Desmond had finished molting and the imprint shrugged off. Which of course was probably why Bill thought they'd done it. Too bad for him he didn't know his son was basically in love with him to the point it was almost annoying. Because it made it so hard to keep Desmond away.

"I'm just going to be gone for a while. You'll be fine and continue your training and molting. You'll probably be flying by the time I get back," Altair grinned a little. He was looking forward to that, seeing Desmond fly. Or at least try to fly. He'd probably miss all the blundering and falling like he got to witness with Connor. Oh well.

Desmond's frown was almost a scowl. Whatever it was, he figured it was his father's fault. He'd almost forgotten that they still had to do anything they were told to do outside of the compound. No matter where or how strenuous the task. "You're flying really far away, aren't you." He didn't bother asking where, he had no concept of the world outside of the compound that didn't come from things he had heard, or gleaned from the very objects in the room (he learned very quickly he wasn't supposed to touch them).

His wings slouched, feathers spread across the floor around him.

"I am," Altair said and sort of ticked his own chin with the feather. "I'm leaving in two weeks, so I expect to see those golden feathers before I leave. I'll make sure to tell Yusuf to keep an eye on you so you don't pluck," because that couldn't keep happening. "Now c'mon," he nudged Desmond with his wing, "you still have time with Yusuf and I was just taking a break from flying," because he needed to get his body back into proper flying shape. He was in great human shape but it had been a long time since he'd used his wings like this. He needed fly more.

"How long will you be gone, though?" Desmond didn't get up, even when Altair's wing pushed against him. He was still unhappy about it, and apparently not ready to stop sulking about it. Not plucking wouldn't be a hassle for him. It was more of a chore to keep up with the ones he pulled out, and Altair had been right. He was fighting his body, and it hadn't been the first time.

He ignored the constant whispering and lifted his wings from the floor, looking up at Altair. "I'll hold you to it because I want to fly with you when you come back."

"I don't know how long I'll be gone," Altair said truthfully since there was getting there, doing the thing, and then getting back. As it was he knew he'd be gone weeks at the least. "Don't worry, we will. I know Ed's planning a thing once you and Connor can both actually stay in the air, now get up," he flipped his wing against Desmond's chest. "I can't spend the rest of the day here and neither can you."

He whined like the oversized child he was, and finally got up. "You know, I do have other golden feathers... I just can't reach them." Desmond took the plucked feathers, looking around the room. Maybe he'd wanted to make something with them. There was no reason, but he hadn't just gotten rid of the feathers like every other one he lost. And Desmond got rid of bags of them, it wasn't like anyone went through bags of feathers before the trash was incinerated.

"So they've come in properly than," Altair gave him a look. "C'mon," he put his wing around Desmond and started to lead him towards the door. "Maybe you'll be lucky and your wings will come in more gold than not," he grinned at Desmond and leaned over to him as the door unlocked again. He pressed his face into part of Desmond's down he still had. "Kinda lucky there are no girl avians in the flock. You'd have to beat them off with a stick if you had golden wings," and he pulled back with a laugh as the door finish opening.

Desmond's hand slipped from the lock and he jumped when he felt Altair's face in his feathers. "Alty, that's not funny. I think I'm going to have to beat Yusuf off with a stick..." Or God forbid Petruccio getting into the avian quarters again. Ezio claimed that had been a mistake he had no idea transpired, though honestly, the kid had gone straight for Desmond's room and his fluffy, pale wings.

He glanced back at Altair, shuffling the handful of feathers. "Keep that one, okay?" Desmond walked into the hall, head down while he fiddled with them. "And take it with you when you go."

Altair grinned, "I think I'll take a smaller one than one of your big primaries," Altair said, amused even though he tucked the long primary behind his ear like an asshole. He'd be keeping this one though, one of the bigger ones. "Just give Yusuf one of the big ones and he'll leave you alone," he used his wing to pull Desmond closer to him. "I'll take this one too," he picked out a smaller feather. Really he thought they were amazing and beautiful since he was an avian and like a lot of birds avians loved shiny things. It was why there wasn't a lot of glitter or shiny things in the avian wing and even mirrors were only in the bathrooms. Bad idea to let an avian near things that were too shiny.

"You look like a total dipshit," Desmond said, referring to the primary Altair put behind his ear. He let him take another feather, and honestly, probably would've just given them all to him if he wanted them.

The whispering stopped when the door had closed itself, and he shook himself as if doing so would break him from the residual echoes. For Desmond, it really only just became indistinguishable from the regular white noise, and rose to an understandable peak when he was in the archive.

He offered a smile, relaxing a little easier. Desmond was glad that Altair hadn't been adverse to him pretty much demanding he take a feather with him when he left. After all, they were kind of shiny.


	11. That Isn't What I Meant to Say

Altair pressed his face against Desmond's damp shoulder, breathing heavy. Desmond was trembling under him and Altair's wings were twitching just as much as his. Fuck. Why the hell had he done that? Why the hell had he just fucked Desmond again? He'd been so damn good lately, allowing Desmond to steal fewer and fewer kisses. But like a sliver of ice he'd just snapped and gone for it. He was pretty sure he'd just wrecked the kid for at least a day. He doubted he'd be able to get up and join Altair in the shower like the first time.

Altair hadn't been nice or gentle. He was still so damn annoyed about this fucking mission to nearly the other side of the Goddamn world and pissed at Bill for being a piece of shit who couldn't stand not being in control. He might have taken his frustrations out on Desmond. But bless him the kid was willing as the first time.

Panting Altair pushed himself up onto his elbows. Desmond had his head sideways on the bed, trying to catch his breath, eyes closed, soft noises leaving his mouth. He looked like he'd enjoyed it immensely. Fuck Altair would think so. He'd never seen someone so eager to be fucked into a mattress in his life.

"Sorry about that," Altair said, pushing himself up a little bit. As said Altair hadn't been gentle, and maybe he'd been a bit rough. He knew at one point Desmond had made him stop because he'd been a bit too harsh. He didn't think he'd hurt the kid though. Better safe than sorry though.

Desmond was crooning softly with each breath, even when he'd finally caught it again. His wings were spread out, wrists still pressed into the bed to keep him from being forced off the edge. Since he stopped pulling feathers, more showed up, mostly the usual dark blue, but some were lighter, and a few also came in golden.

Altair had been rough as hell, but he hadn't felt this damn blissed out afterward. Desmond groaned, trying to look back at him. "No... you feel a little bit better... at least?" He asked when he could form words that weren't incomprehensible. He'd gotten a little better at not slipping into the babbling sounds that Altair couldn't understand, but there had still been strings of it coming from him.

Altair sat up, his wing fanning out, even spreading his feathers at the ends. "Not all about me, kid," Altair, reaching down to help pull himself out. He saw Desmond's hands clench a little from it and Altair smirked a bit. Damn this kid. He wasn't sure if Desmond wasn't the only one a bit ruined from this.

"I would advise... not moving," Altair said and took the condom off, the third one, and tossed it in the trash with the others. Altair had probably not had this much sex since he was Desmond's age. He fanned his feathers a bit, to create a cool breeze against their sweaty skin. Altair's skin rose in goosebumps a bit before getting used to the cold air again.

He shivered, and slouched completely against the bed. Desmond made a face at the wall, not really liking the feeling of flopping down on his cum, but it wasn't the worst thing he'd done. He didn't feel all that bad, aside from the expected ache and soreness. The worst wouldn't come until tomorrow when he had to continue training with the limp and pain.

"Good," Desmond grunted, "'Cuz I don't wanna move." His wings twitched, feathers lifting in the air Altair kicked up.

"Well since you aren't, I'll be right back," and Altair got up through his body protested. He wanted to just lay down and do nothing because he'd just had a lot of really rough sex and was exhausted. Also he was leaving tomorrow and wanted to get to bed earlier than later. But he made himself move.

Altair groaned as he stood up and stretched, the bones in his back popped delightfully. Then he went into the bathroom and grabbed one of the washcloths and held it under the cold tap until it was soaked. He wrung it out a little and took and the other dry one and went back to his room.

He practically fell back onto his bed, mindful of where Desmond's big wings were. He pressed the wet washcloth to Desmond's slick back and then over the rise of his ass.

The cloth was cold, and felt pretty damn amazing on his skin. Desmond spread his wings a little more to pull the feathers that fell along his back away. "Alty," he murmured, trying to roll onto his side with one wing tucked against the bed. "Can I stay tonight?" He'd been spending as much time as he could near Altair for the entire day, but he at least asked for this, since it was Altair's bed, after all.

"I wouldn't make you walk back to your room," Altair snorted, he wasn't that much of an asshole after all. He used one hand to move Desmond's cheeks so he could press the cold towel against Desmond's abused entrance gently. Altair also used his hand to gently ease the obvious tenderness in his ass. "I'm not that cruel," he leaned down and pressed his lips against one of the dark red marks on his neck. Yeah, Altair was just cruel in other ways.

He sighed, the sound tugged at the edges by yet another quiet warble. Desmond stopped trying to move and just went limp under Altair's hand. His throat worked soundlessly when he kissed over the bruises, and felt Altair's breath against his skin.

"I know," Desmond said, voice soft and on the verge of hitching. Altair was actually pretty kind, probably more than he liked to let on, and Desmond thoroughly enjoyed the warm attention.

"Roll over," Altair said even as he nipped and kissed the nape of Desmond's neck. There were fresh bite marks all over Desmond's skin now, some even close to the point of bleeding. Even them on his back and shoulders though the big ones that looked like Desmond had been punched were on his chest. Altair had turned Desmond black and blue and he kinda felt bad for it. He should have had more control.

Rolling over wasn't so much of an easy endeavor anymore. He had to wrestle one wing beneath himself, and then unfold it, which wasn't that simple when they were as big as his were. Desmond grumbled, and bunched up Altair's sheets as he did so.  
Each movement made him aware of a new ache, and he whimpered. Desmond reached up, getting his fingers into Altair's hair, and holding his face. He smiled, trilling softly. Seriously, he had to stop with all of these noises.

Altair leaned down and pressed a kiss against Desmond's kiss bruised lips. He sucked on Desmond's lower lip briefly before drawing away and looking down at him. He was going to have to change the sheets before bed because like hell he wanted to sleep on bedding Desmond had come all over. That was like the opposite of sexy.

He wiped down Desmond's chest and stomach with the wet towel, followed it up with the dry, and pressed light kisses into Desmond's throat. Once he'd finished wiping Desmond down he did himself, only having to really clean up his groin. He wasn't looking forward to changing the sheets. That would wait for a bit. He was tired. He dropped both washcloths onto the floor and laid down on his bed, pushing Desmond's wings out of the way to do so.

Desmond kissed him back, making little complaint about further abuse to his lips. When he laid down, Desmond pulled himself close to Altair. He kept his wings out of the way once they were moved. One of them hooked loosely around Altair's side.

"... Warm," he muttered, though his feathers were puffed out to make himself warmer. They both still radiated heat, and Desmond was clearly in the middle of enjoying that, nuzzling against Altair.

Ah hell, Altair couldn't help but think. He hadn't really expected Desmond to be so cute and cuddly after he got done making sure he couldn't walk easily for the next few hours, he'd sort of expected Desmond just to pass out. Though he also didn't expect how much... he'd like it either. Altair curved one of his wings over Desmond, blocking out the light overhead a bit. With the light Altair's feathers almost looked golden.

He gave Altair a tired, satisfied smile. "You better come back to me." Desmond tucked his head against Altair's shoulder, throat vibrating with a gentle humming. He was too exhausted to think about what he was saying, and was pretty much falling asleep already, even though he didn't really want tomorrow to come.

Altair looked down at Desmond, who was basically asleep now and could only think one thing: ah fuck.

-  
The others knew better than to bother him before he left. As a rule the flock didn't like to make a big deal out of this stuff. They hated doing it and hated making it into something, Making it into something would have shown the humans how much they hated it. Even more so than humans avians were social creatures. They stayed in a flock, even ferals did, except for lone men who'd pissed off whoever ran the local flock where they lived. Altair didn't like leaving especially and he was nervous about leaving because he didn't like being too far from Desmond. Over the past few weeks it had become a mild tick whenever he couldn't get up and look at him in under five minutes. That was the sort of shit that happened when your flock leader told you to keep an eye on the new fledgling. He really hoped it went away once Desmond finished molting.

He had a thin, light, bag strapped to his back, clipping across his chest. It weighed only a few pounds and had a change of clothes in it and enough money to just either ditch his old clothes and buy new ones, or wash them as he needed them. That and a knife was all he was bringing with him. Any more and it'd be too heavy, weigh him down too much.

It was windy outside the compound, and hot, the wind buffered at Altair's wings a he knew there were plenty of warm thermals to rise on. It was days like these he could almost, almost, achieve powered lift. But his wings or muscles weren't big enough for that. He was about to start going up the tower when he heard someone behind him.

Desmond had burst from Altair's room clad in a pair of briefs. He wasn't even sure if they were his own, but he knew two things. One, Altair was a dick and didn't wake him up before he planned to leave, and two, Altair forgot the feather he said he would take with him. He ran through the hall, and out into the field with it clutched in his hand. It hurt to move that rigorously, but the feather was really important for some reason, and dammit, Altair was not going to leave without it.

"Altair!" His wings opened to slow him down, and almost got lifted slightly when they also caught wind. Desmond stopped and groaned, panting more from pain than exertion as he pressed his hand against his lower back. "You're a fucking jerk, you know that?" He waved the golden feather, brows drawn together. "Weren't you gonna at least say goodbye...?"

"Desmond, what the hell are you doing up?" meaning up and walking. He was more concerned with that than whatever dumb reason Desmond thought he needed to be up. He moved over to Desmond, keeping his wings close and in check so he didn't get blown all over the place.

He frowned, straightening back up, though it did hurt. "The feather...?" Desmond pushed it into Altair's face. "You said you'd take it, and you forgot it."

"Oh," right, he had forgotten. He had other things on his mind, especially this morning when he'd been getting ready. He took the golden feather from Desmond and reached behind his back. By feel he opened up the thin backpack and slid it in, using his fingers to make sure it would lay flat next to a shirt. "Thanks for bringing it to me, but really you shouldn't be up after last night," last night which he could still obviously see evidence of on Desmond's chest. If Bill was doing this as a way to get back at him for fucking his son he was going to love this. Fucking human,

Desmond grabbed Altair's face and kissed him hard. "Shut up, I'll be fine." He let him go, wings low behind him, feathers ruffled. He looked down, opened his mouth, and then looked back up at him. "I'll miss you." It wasn't what he wanted to say, but it was what came to his voice easier.  
"Come on, go already. The longer you stand here the longer it takes for you to get back." Desmond gave Altair a little push toward the tower.

"Make up your mind already," Altair said just so he didn't feel like his voice was caught in his throat. "First you want me to stay, now go. I'll never leave at this rate," he grabbed the ladder. "I'll be back soon," he told Desmond, looking at him, and then started to climb, his wings tight to his back. The tower was made for avians though and accounted for their wingspan.

At the top of the tower Altair unfurled his wings and he sighed in delight. Oh he loved flying. More than anything he loved flying. The wind up here was stronger than it was down on the ground and all Altair had to do was put his wings in the right position, unplant his feet and the wind itself picked him up off the platform. In three strokes of his wings and arms he was fully airborne. He waved down at Desmond before turned his head upward to gain altitude.


	12. Altitude Sickness

It had been hard without Altair being there. Desmond didn't think he'd notice the lack of him that badly, but honestly, it was pretty obvious. The day he left, Desmond went back to Altair's room, changed the sheets and cleaned up all of his stray feathers. He spent a lot of time with Connor, and let Yusuf fuss over his wings while more and more of his feathers grew in. They'd become a mix of blues, blacks and orange red among the feathers that were not golden.

Getting back into the rhythm of training got easier, especially when it became time to learn how to fly. Connor helped him out quite a bit, and in four weeks' time, the two of them were flying over the field, and beginning to learn the aerial acrobatics that Rauf was the master of. It quickly became clear that Desmond would never be good at it, with his wingspan breaching that of even Edward's - the preening day when they'd all bet on it and finally resolved it with Desmond and the flock leader standing back to back was quite the experience.

The days kept passing without any sign of Altair, and Desmond continued to grow uneasy. He ignored it for another month, and then a few more weeks. It didn't feel right, and the voices in the archive weren't making him feel any better. He demanded to meet with his father. Two months and nearly three weeks was a long time to be gone. Desmond wanted to know where Bill had sent him, and what he told him to do.

When he couldn't negotiate a time, Desmond stormed through the human quarters, and showed up where he worked. It didn't look as dark and scary as he remembered it being when he was a kid, but he still couldn't shake the uneasiness. He took a breath and swallowed, and without bothering to knock, let himself in.

"We were just holding for a-" the door opened and both Bill and Leila, who was giving a report, looked to see who would come into his office without asking, permission, or even knocking.

"Desmond?" Bill's brow furrowed. "What are you doing here? Don't you have flying lessons right now?" because he did keep on top of what Desmond was doing, even if he could no longer regulate it.

"I'm doing just fine with them. What's Altair doing that keeps him away for almost three months?" Desmond used a quick motion with his wings to close the door behind him. It slammed, but gave the effect he wanted. He stood with them half raised.

Bill blinked, "He's on an important mission," he said, "these things can take a good amount of time," that wasn't even a lie. It wasn't easy for an avian with wings like Altair to move around in normal society, outside of their organization. "Did you come all the way here and interrupt me ask me why it's taking Altair so long to do his job?" Oh give him strength, Bill was not happy how this turned out. "You can ask him when he returns why he took so long."

"I asked you what he was doing," Desmond scowled. "Not why he is taking so long. Don't sidestep my question, you always do that." He glanced at Leila, and then back at his father. "You also stopped trying to stick your nose in what I was doing since you sent him away. What happened to 'I just want to see my son,' huh?" His wings folded again, more so because the room was small and built for humans, not the span of his wings. Desmond's feathers still bristled.

Bill scowled and got to his feet, putting his hands on his desk. "He's on an important mission. One you don't need to know about because you're too young to go on them," he just ignored the rest of Desmond's accusations or questions. "Now see yourself out before I have you escorted out. You can't just barge in here. I have important business to get to and can't be around answering every question you have. If you're so curious, you can ask Edward. He knows about Altair's mission." Or at least part of it. Edward knew about as much as Altair had. Bill knew more than either of them, and hadn't shared all of it.

His wings flared again, beyond his control. They probably hit things, and honestly, Desmond didn't really care. "You sent him out, and you didn't tell anyone where. Do you think I haven't asked Ed? Why else do you think I came through here when you wouldn't agree to meet me? I'm not stupid, and you can take five minutes to talk to your son."

Desmond's eyes flashed, flickering as they narrowed.

"Leila," Bill turned to the woman still standing there looking out of place, "Will you excuse us."

"Of course sir," and she bid a hasty retreat, slinking around Desmond's big wings to get out of the office.

Bill stood up straight and put his hands behind his back authoritatively. "Fine," he sighed, "I will take the time to play into your hissy fit," he said, unamused by Desmond's antics. "And once I do you're going to leave and we can both go back to doing the work we need to do."

Desmond folded his wings, shuffling to get them to lay against his back. "Fine. Tell me then." He didn't once look away from Bill, nictitating membrane flicking over his eyes while he stared unblinkingly as if his father were either a threat or a target.

It was an instinct, really. Blinking, regardless of how brief, could end up with death, or when hunting, loss of prey, and therefore a meal. Though slightly opaque, they kept the eye wet and protected while still allowing visual feedback. Coupled with Eagle Vision, sight could pretty much be unhindered.

He crossed his arms, and growled a bit. Desmond was honestly sick of his father's shit, and trusted him even less.

"I don't know what you expect to hear, son. There's a man we needed to have taken out and a hornet's nest shaken up. We do what we always do with a hit like this and send one of you, because you people scare the shit out of humans," sometimes it was hard to remember that. Especially when you dealt with avians all the time. That avians were better at just about everything as well as stronger, faster, and more agile. "Altair had this mission. And now he's carrying it out and knowing him he won't come back until the mission is complete," because as much as Altair hated listening to Bill when he was on a mission he did it to completion. "When he comes back isn't a thing I can control."

"Alright, so where did he have to go?" Desmond hadn't relaxed. "How long does someone have to be gone before you begin to think something might have gone wrong?" He was somewhat less wound up, but still angry. Desmond had forgotten how much he hated talking to Bill.

"Some missions can go on for months," not a lie, "the more difficult ones, or ones that require more precision; years. Telling you where he went wouldn't make much of a difference. You don't know where it is," also not a lie. He'd kept Desmond close while he was growing up, and made sure he knew only the things he needed to know.

"Doesn't matter that I won't know where it is," Desmond's frown deepened, "I want to know." He couldn't just explain the bad feeling he was having to his father. His father was the last person who would understand a damn thing about it. "And I know they can go on for a long time, it still doesn't answer my question. Besides. I thought they had to be sent out in pairs."

"Normally yes," Bill said, he still wasn't answering Desmond's question about where though. To someone like him it wasn't important. "But avians are different. One avian is comparable to four of my men," though he loathed to admit that. "I don't need to send two, and that's besides the fact that avians are so visible around normal people. Now are we done here?"

Desmond growled again. "There's something wrong here that you're not telling me. I'll find out where you sent him by myself." He turned and stalked off without leaving much room for a response, not that he wanted to hear it anyway. Storming through the hallways wasn't as hard as it appeared to be, most people just got out of his way to avoid the angry avian. He hardly looked like the nineteen-year-old he had been half a year ago.

He looked up at the little cameras by the ceiling, tiny electronic eyes that kept tabs on everyone within the compound. There were markedly more in the human hallways, and they made Desmond uncomfortable. He'd have to figure out how he would be getting his hands on where Altair was sent, especially since he was so conspicuous and honestly didn't have the skills to find that out.

Desmond brought the problem to Connor after dinner while pushing the last bits of his food around on the plate. That was when the idea hit him. Ziio freely moved between the avian and human wings. "Can you ask your mom to have someone meet me?"

Connor gave Desmond a look like he was getting another mind numbingly stupid idea. "You pissed off your dad again?"

He shrugged a little with his wings. "He won't tell me where he sent Altair, and you know, I already told you that I've got a bad feeling about it, I'm pretty sure something's not right. Haytham told me he's supposed to have sent Altair with a partner." Desmond looked over at him. "I'm hoping I can get Becca to do me a favor... but I don't know. And I would've asked Leo but..." Desmond shivered. "I think he wants to do weird things to my wings."

Connor's expression didn't change, but he was vaguely amused. "Alright, alright. Leonardo won't do anything to you though. He knows he can't."

Desmond gave him a wide eyed joke of a frown. "Come on, your mom's way nicer, and not in that weird way Leo is."

"We still have to talk to my father about it."

"But he'll say-"

Connor gave Desmond a look that shut him up. They wouldn't get far sneaking around behind Haytham's or Edward's backs, and it would be better to involve them sooner rather than later.

"Can we do this now, then?" Desmond asked, gathering up his dishes.

Finding the elder Kenways wasn't that hard. It was late, and the day was coming to an end, so the both of them were actually in their rooms. Otherwise, it was a rare thing to find them there. Connor knocked on his father's door, and Desmond fidgeted.

Haytham was writing in his journal. It was a habit he'd picked up when Edward took over the flock, more as a way to express his exasperation about his father's incompetence than anything else. He had a bookshelf filled with them though he didn't ever reread them, or let people look at them. They were private affairs. He looked at his door when there was a knock.

He closed his journal and got up from his desk to see who it was. Normally no one bothered him after dinner. He didn't have much time alone, to himself, so he saved it when he did. So whoever was at his door better have had a good reason.

Haytham's brows went up in surprise when he saw who it was, then his forehead furrowed. "What do you two boys want?" he asked Desmond and Connor.

"Desmond wants to find out where Altair was sent."

"Uh. Because he was sent alone, and I don't have a good feeling about it- I don't really know why or how to explain it." Desmond felt like he had to explain himself, and do it quickly. "I went to... Bill about it, he won't tell me anything."

"Well of course he wouldn't tell you anything. You're too young to worry about our missions. The both of you are. Altair is competent to a fault. And, if he was dead; we'd know," because the Templars would have files on it and they'd find those files. "Is this all you bothered me for?"

"Shouldn't you or Ed know?" Desmond frowned. Haytham wasn't treating him much differently than his father had. The parallels actually pissed him off a little. It showed in his wings, feathers flaring even though they remained folded behind him. "I feel like something isn't right, I need to know where he is." Even though knowing that wouldn't bring him much peace of mind, he felt like he needed to know.

Connor's gaze went from Desmond to Haytham, lips twitching into a vague frown. "... Father, he is right, though." If Ed didn't know, Haytham should, as he was pretty much the acting leader of the flock. Why they wouldn't know where one of their own was supposed to be wasn't normal.

Haytham frowned at the both of them, "Edward and I are both aware of the situations. The question is what makes you think you need to be? You two know as much as you need to know, that Altair is on a mission. Where, or what he's doing is not a concern to either of you. You're both too young to know everything and even if you weren't the flock's mission operates on a need to know basis," he gave Desmond a look. "I know you imprinted on Altair, Desmond, but your downy feathers are gone now. He is not your concern, and now, neither are you to him when he gets back."

Desmond's wings twitched, wanting to flick out. "So you know where he is? Do you really?" He was skeptical and irritated, and had to stop and collect himself. "I know, but I've been getting this feeling that something is wrong, and I'm not going to ignore it. I told Bill I'd find out where he went, and I will, whether or not I'm supposed to know."

Haytham sighed. When Altair got home he was going to smack him for taking so damn long that Desmond got anxious and pissy. What was the point of even having a chain of command if the people on the very bottom rung didn't listen to their superiors? He was completely sure this shit didn't happen with ferals. Why couldn't obedience be instinct? It'd certainly make his life a hell of alot easier. "He's in South America," Haytham said, "and last time he contacted us he was fine," and he had been. That had been some weeks ago but that was rather normal. Things happened and what was asked of them was never easy. "Altair has been on missions that have lasted longer than this."

Desmond backed off, not feeling any better since hearing that, but he had a place, so Altair wasn't just gone, he was somewhere. Somewhere that he didn't know anything about, but somewhere. "That's all I wanted to know. … Honestly... you know I can't do anything with that." He couldn't. What he was taught strictly related to two things. First, before his wings, it was how to be an assassin. Second was how to be an avian. He was taught about climates, and different types of terrain and how to survive in them, but where they were, how to get there, they were nothing but names. Sad, really, but a demonstration of the extent his life was controlled. It was as if he was made to be dropped off somewhere, complete a mission, and then be picked up, no in between traveling experienced.

Connor was glad that it seemed to be enough for Desmond, and watched him walk off before turning back to Haytham. "I'm sorry that we bothered you, Father," he said with a little stiffness. He was worried about Desmond, though he could only guess how he felt. "I think... Altair means a lot to him, but that aside, I also think that his feelings of uneasiness are... valid? He's told me about things like this before." Connor had no word for it other than something similar to foresight, not that it had ever been particularly accurate, just good or bad feelings.

He had waited at the end of the hall, and when it was clear that Connor wouldn't be following soon, turned to the path that would lead him to the archive. It was a crackshot idea, especially since he wasn't supposed to be handling the artifacts, but he had to try something at least.

Haytham rolled his eyes, "He's just a stupid boy who misses someone too much," he said. He sometimes had similar feelings about Ziio when she was away, that she was in danger. She never was, but it didn't stop him from stressing out needlessly. "Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid Connor. Knowing him, he won't but we can't always be around to watch him. Since he's your friend just... keep an eye on him."

"I will, Father." When Connor turned to Desmond, he was gone from where he'd been at the end of the hall. He sighed, and proceeded to look for him. Rather than go to their connected room, Connor turned toward the archive. A yawn had him hesitate. He knew it was late, but he thought he'd at least check up on Desmond before going to bed.

"Desmond!" Connor caught up with him in the hall that led to the locked door to the archives. He always felt uneasy here, but unlike Desmond, did not hear the voices. It had been a long time since he had even mentioned them, though Connor was sure Desmond still heard them. He watched Desmond kind of flinch, like he'd been caught stealing something, and look back at Connor guiltily. "Just making sure you're doing alright." Connor raised his hands peaceably, and joined Desmond in front of the door when he conceded.

"I feel like something went horribly wrong... or it will." Desmond sounded like a record on loop. Not exactly broken, but repeating the same tracks.

Connor placed a gentle hand against Desmond's brightly colored wings. "I'm just here to make sure you don't fall asleep in here again," he said with a small smile, hoping he'd see it mirrored on Desmond's face.

Desmond relaxed noticeably, and actually laughed quietly. "I won't, but I guess I can't convince you to leave now can I?" He reached out and covered the lock with his fingers, glow in his eyes matching a glow that poured out of the lines and shapes on the door that led toward the mechanism. It clicked and Desmond's feathers rose somewhat. He pushed open the door, and let Connor in behind him.

It was like watching dirt coming off of his hands in a bucket full of water. Desmond was almost instantaneously less tense, as if the atmosphere of the room lifted and washed it away. Connor couldn't help but feel calmer. He looked over at Desmond when he heard him laugh at some secret joke he couldn't hear, and then say something he couldn't understand, but felt like it was familiar.

"What?"

Desmond just shook his head, "I'll tell you about it later." Connor opened his mouth to object, but Desmond beat him to it. "All of it, don't worry about it." He moved toward the pedestals around the room where each artifact was cradled in their own stands. The Apple of Eden, or one of them, at least, the Crystal Ball, something that was thought to be an energy cell, and more that acted as keys as well as journals in their own right. There were more of them out there, much more than they had in this room.

He rested his palm against the clear, glass-like ball, and it warmed beneath his touch. Connor protested behind him, and Desmond just shushed him. "It's fine, nothing's happening to me. See?" He turned around with it, though it glowed gently in his palm, there was nothing expressly wrong. "Wanna touch it?" Desmond grinned, and brought it over to him.

"Why's it so warm? I thought this thing is a glass ball." Connor gave Desmond a skeptical look, who only offered a winged shrug in reply. Nothing happening his ass. When Desmond sat down, Connor did too, their wings spread in a relaxed circle around the both of them. "What are you trying to do?"

Desmond shrugged again. "I dunno. Talk to it?" He looked at it fondly, cradled in his palm now instead of the cold pedestal. "No one's touched them in... a long time."

Connor had always thought Desmond was a little weird, but it had yet to prove itself to be a bad thing. He sighed. Of course no one had touched them. They were dangerous, and easily manipulated the minds of men, of humans. No one was really sure what they would do to an avian, but he supposed Desmond wasn't doing any worse for the wear at least spending time with them. Insofar, he hadn't had the urge to touch them. Or, at least, Connor hadn't. "Desmond. Hey, Desmond, don't fall asleep like that." Connor reached out to tip Desmond's face up. His eyes were half lidded, and washed over with Eagle Vision.

"... 'M not."

Connor sounded like he was talking to him through a mouth full of cotton. He saw Connor's distress through a weird, gray filter, and told him he was fine before he stopped concerning himself with the place he was, and began feeling what the artifact in his lap was telling him.

Desmond was washed over with sensations. The wind, through his feathers, against his face. He was flying, but he couldn't make out the shapes below him, it was just a feeling of something green, tall, foggy. Landing, with wings snapped out, legs spread, arms out to grab the branch - rough, damp under his hands. It was hot and wet, like breathing water, the air was thick with it. Dark, and then lights, but he couldn't see them, he couldn't see what they illuminated, they were just glowing circles. Harsh, flashlights?

The world he was in spun, not enough air, not enough wind - pain. Thigh, stomach. Desmond heard a sharp screeching cry, and was unaware that it was one that he had made. Away. He had to get away, safe in the trees, but pain... foliage, thick, wet, smells like rain, but feels more like blood.

It was all too disorienting, and Connor pushed the Crystal Ball from his hands. The sound of it rolling across the floor brought him back. For a long time, Desmond said nothing, staring somewhere on the plane of Connor's chest. A lot of it didn't mean anything to him, he didn't understand it.

"Can I... sleep in your room?" Desmond asked, breaking Connor's one-sided, somewhat frantic conversation. His voice was quiet, and he felt really small. The Crystal Ball had been huge, expansive, even though he had just been feeling things inside of it, it just went on, encompassing the sensations and emotions of... everything, anywhere, at any time. It scared him, even though it had told him Altair was not dead, Desmond didn't want to ask it where he was, if he was okay now, when that had been.

Connor heaved a sigh, letting it out slowly. "Must have been something heavy," he said, just as quietly as he stood up, helping Desmond alongside him. "Yeah. Do me a favor though, don't come in here and touch this stuff again." He hadn't heard anything make a sound like Desmond had just then. It chilled him, how painful it sounded. Connor didn't want to ask what happened, not while it was so tender and recent, but he noticed Desmond took up a slight limp, favoring his left leg, and left side in general.

It wasn't until they were in Connor's room that Desmond spoke up again. "I think... he got shot." He checked himself again and again, running his fingers over his skin, expecting to find wounds. The initial pain had faded, but he was left with a deep ache in his side and his leg. Of course, there were no scars, no wounds, but he had felt, as if in slow motion now that he thought back to it, things - bullets - ripping through him from behind. Desmond pressed his hands against his thigh, staring down at his fingers.

"I heard birds. Like us." Desmond sounded detached from his own voice.

"He's... alive then, he's okay, so he'll come back?" Connor was really bad at physical comfort, and he felt bad knowing that Desmond responded best to it.

Desmond shook his head. "He forgot. Too many gold feathers."


	13. What You've Just Forgotten

Since he'd spoken with Connor and Desmond he'd heard nothing. Meaning there was nothing to worry about. He knew Connor would tell him if anything happened that he needed to know. Since he heard nothing he had to assume everything was well. So Haytham went about his normal day to day routine and doing what he normally did.

Haytham detected something slightly amiss a few days after he'd spoken to the boys. He didn't miss Connor giving Desmond a look whenever Haytham was around, clear to indicate that while they weren't saying anything there obviously was something. He hadn't brought it up yet though. He was waiting for the boys to come to them. He trusted his own son enough to do what was needed, a trait that needed to be shared by Bill but wasn't. Stubborn man wasn't doing himself any favors.

Desmond finally came to Haytham when he couldn't stand it. Of course, it had been a grand total of three days before he literally could not take another day. In addition to Connor's urging him to tell Haytham what had happened, Yusuf had picked up on it, and simply thinking about it was a downward spiral. It didn't help that it had also decided to become a key element of his dreams.

"Haytham." He was without Connor for once, and infinitely more uneasy for it. "I... something happened, I don't really think you or Ed will believe me, I just really need to talk about this." Desmond could not stand still, and rubbing his thigh with the heel of his hand had become a nervous tick.

Haytham gave Desmond an easy look, the kid was more skittish than before. "While I think you're seriously over reacting," Haytham told him, "It's not good you're so worked up about this. So, just tell me. I'll tell Ed if he needs to know."

"It has to do with the artifacts. The Crystal Ball. I... uh, I used it... to see if Altair was okay, to see that I really was just worked up over nothing. I know no one's supposed to touch them but there's no other way." Desmond found the wall much more interesting than struggling to actually look Haytham in the eye up until now.

His gaze flicked to his face and focused again. "I felt... I dunno, things, where he was, and then a lot of pain. There were birds, later, or... there will be, he meets and forgets but he was- is alive? I think they shot him. I don't know what that feels like but I felt it. Abdomen and thigh, from behind." Desmond gestured on his own body. "He won't come back, not on his own. I got the feeling he... forgot who he is," he finished lamely, at a loss for words to explain what he felt from the artifact. "It felt wild, like... he's feral."

It wouldn't be much of a stretch. Injured, losing blood, but tending to the wounds without explicit medical attention in the middle of a south American jungle could end up with all kinds of infection no matter how well he bandaged himself up. Shock, weakness, simply adapting to survive, the most primary objective, one that the avians were incredibly in touch with. As opposed to humans, who seemed to have been dulled to the survival instinct.

A trained avian, one as an assassin, like Altair though, going feral like that was unheard of. Then again, none of them had ever been lost to the compound, or... no one ever checked back for those who never returned.

"You touched one of the artifacts?" Haytham demanded, because to him that was the important part of what Desmond had said. Unlike Desmond Haytham wasn't worried about Altair, he had every confidence in the man to do what needed to be done and come back safely. They wouldn't even consider the possibility that he was in danger for a year or a body was recovered by either side. "Desmond," his feathers bristled, feathers fluffing up a bit, "we might not be able to stop you from going into the archive but there is a very specific reason as to why you aren't allowed totouch them. They're dangerous and warp whatever they touch. Whatever you think you saw or felt wasn't real."

"And what if it was? How long before something seems like it might have gone wrong to you?" Desmond's wings flared slightly to match Haytham's bristling feathers. "I know what I felt. A week, a month, he's not going to make it back. Hell, I don't think he even remembers." He stared at Haytham, eyes hardened. He'd expected to not be believed, but not shut down so resolutely.

His wings closed up again, shoulders squaring. "They're one of the few things I know, for a fact, won't lie to me. It's more than I can say for most of the people I talk to." Desmond's lip was set in a snarl, but he took a step back.

Haytham didn't have a very big wingspan, he knew that. He could barely glide without a strong head wind. He was self conscious about it. So he didn't flare his wings out like he wanted to, to show dominance. It wouldn't help. Desmond's wings dwarfed his comically. He tucked his wings close to remain in control. "I know you think it isn't fair. Or that we're lying to you. But there are just some things you don't need to know. And there is a reason why this flock has remained as it is for so long. Because we listen to our superiors. And as your superior, I'm telling you to leave the artifacts alone and to not worry about Altair. He knows the risks as well as any of us, if he was hurt he'd have let us know. You're making this into something this doesn't have to be. Don't let your feelings get in the way of what's fact."

His eyes flickered. "Might as well file that he's dead. I can promise you that he can't come back on his own. Really convenient that he doesn't have a partner out with him this time, isn't it. Especially since my dad was the one who sent him out." Desmond regarded Haytham in silence for a few moments before turning away.

Saying Desmond was angry would be an understatement. He didn't mind that he had to be kept out of the loop on a lot of things, he'd grown up outside of the circle of information. He was used to it. He supposed that he was used to being ignored, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was right.

Haytham's shoulders relaxed when Desmond left. He watched the kid walk away and leave. He frowned to himself and went about his normal business. At one point he had to go talk with Bill about something, just about food. Rauf and Yusuf were complaining about it. Avians were more sensitive to just about everything and apparently some of the meat they'd been feeding to everyone was bad. Not terribly so, but bad food wasn't good for anyone.

"I'll have our cooks make sure its fine," Bill said after Haytham finished with him.

"Bill," Haytham said, speaking offhandedly, "I was simply curious why you didn't send Malik or Ezio with Altair."

Bill frowned at him, "You going to make something of it?"

"You're usually such a stickler for the rules is all," Haytham shrugged, his wings making it seem like he was more disinterested than he was. "I have every confidence in Altair and that he'll return safely. But I was just wondering," he rose his brows at Bill.

"Lower security risk," and that was interesting. "One avian is less visible than two."

"Of course. Good day Bill," Haytham said and left Bill's office. He headed straight for the avian wing and found Edward walking with Connor. "Edward," Haytham said, causing them both to look, "I need to speak with you. Now. Connor, if you'd excuse us."

Connor blinked, head canted somewhat. He was going to ask why, or if everything was alright - specifically with Desmond - but the look on Haytham's face was enough. Nor was he really in the mood to start an argument. It did mean that he could go find Desmond, though. He gave a nod, and went back the way he and Edward had come.

Finding Desmond wasn't hard, he was sulking in his room when Connor let himself in. Really, Connor was barely a year younger than him, and he felt more mature than his friend. "It's just me," he said when Desmond looked up, somewhat startled.

"Your dad totally blew me off," he grumbled, giving Connor a half-hearted glare. He knew it wasn't his fault, but he was still seething midst all of the brooding.

Connor stayed near the door. "He's talking to Edward about something, but just forget about it for a bit, it's not good for you." He uncrossed his arms, hoping that a little smile might do a bit of good for Desmond. "Come on, Rauf and Yusuf have been going easy on you, let's fly around a bit, catch you up."

Desmond really didn't want to, but Connor was too stubborn to let the proposal drop. He knew this from past experience. He did wait until Connor had to force him off of the bed before going along with him, though.

"What is it son?" Edward asked, his huge wings didn't fit easily against his back. Haytham was always slightly envious that he's father and son to get the larger wings. It was like Altair and his father and grandfather, only instead of skipping a generation Haytham just got short wings. They were bigger than Rauf's, but not by much, though he was too tall and big for them to be of any use to him like Rauf's were.

"I think we might have a situation."

Edward blinked and went from easy going to on point. Haytham only came to Edward about things when they were serious and while Haytham did act like the leader most of the time he knew that Bill respected his father a whole hell of alot more than he respected Haytham. "What situation?"

"In private," and they stepped down the hall into Haytham's room, unlike Edward's room they were guaranteed to not be interrupted here. "I assume you know Desmond's being a nuisance."

"With thinking Altair's in danger. Yeah I've heard," Edward rolled his eyes, clearly he thought about as much about it as Haytham did.

"He went into the archive. The Ball gave him a vision."

"What? No one is supposed to touch the artifacts, they're locked up."

"So I've told him. He said Altair might have... gone feral-

"Don't joke about that," Edward said lowly.

"I would never," Haytham said, offended his father would think he'd make light of such a... condition. There were few, if no, flocks like theirs in the world. Most avians were not, as most people said, 'civilized', and lived on the fringes of civilization. They were not animals, but were close enough for most people. It was rare a feral avian made it into civilization, it made their flock rare, special, and terrifying. That avians could be civilized and could function as normal people just drove it home to the humans that there wasn't much separating their species and if they got together in a large number like their own flock they could be devastating to anyone who got in their way. It wasn't easy to fight something that was stronger than you in every way, and could fly, and could fight you in the same level you fought it. "Desmond said he was hurt, and that Bill set it up."

All of feathers on Edward's wings stood up on end, "And you believe that?"

"Not entirely," Haytham admitted. "But... enough to doubt. I had to speak with Bill today, because of Rauf and Yusuf's complaint. I brought it up. Bill gave me more reason to doubt."

"What did he say?" Edward folded his arms, his wings were opening and closing a bit, unable to stay still.

"I asked why he didn't send Malik with Altair as usual, or at least Ezio. He said it was for a 'lower security risk'. Which we both know is bullshit. He sends us when he wants to send a message. One avian is good, but two is something to be afraid of."

"You believe Desmond than?"

"I wouldn't say that," Haytham said slowly, "More I think we should look a bit more thoroughly at Altair's mission. I sensed something off when Bill briefed us but it was nothing. Now though-

"So did I." Edward was quiet for several minutes, Haytham just waited for Edward to speak. "He's lying to us. We need to figure out about what and why."

"I couldn't agree more," and Haytham smiled a little.

Flying did little to take his mind off of the entire ordeal, but it did calm Desmond down. He rode a warm draft up, opposite of Connor who had to flap a couple of times to keep up. Either way, he was not in the mood to play, even when Connor folded his wings into a shallow dive. Honestly, he was rather lazy about it.  
He didn't even land properly, opting to tumble into the pile of hay when he got close, wings tucked. Desmond pushed himself up and shook his wings out. "So I can go back to trying to cultivate mushrooms with my sulking?" He was smiling though, and Connor laughed at his mussed hair, and the straw sticking out of his feathers.

"No, you can be unhappy about it, but sulking won't do anything for you."

Desmond was content with following Connor back into the compound after he'd picked the hay out of his feathers and ruffled if out of his hair. They were both equally irritated when they couldn't get actual food - well, they could get anything except for meat - in the cafeteria, but ate what they were given.

"You don't think he's actually going to ignore all of it, is he?" Connor looked up when Desmond spoke.

"I don't think so. He doesn't want you getting into it. You did actually use one of the artifacts, I didn't see him being too happy about that at all." Connor dipped his bread in what could only be described as bland vegetable mush. It was supposed to be curry, but he'd already eaten the rice.

Desmond fussed with the lip of his cup. "Yeah well, nobody wants me involved in much of anything. Not my fault I can get into the archive or hear them."

Connor sat up a bit, "About that, actually. The talking. You said something and it sounded familiar, like I should have known what it meant. It reminded me of when Father told me I used to understand the birds."

"Oh, I don't know, really." Desmond shrugged, wings rising behind him. "It was a joke about that. They called you bird-talker. But it was kind of more like... birdbrain. Because you forgot it all. I said that you just stopped listening."

"Those old pieces of junk actually have a sense of humor," Connor said dryly, "I wouldn't have guessed."

"I meant to ask if you'd teach me," Connor groused when Desmond wouldn't let the birdbrain nickname drop.

Desmond tipped his head, the movement slow. "Teach?" You didn't teach it. At least, Desmond hadn't been taught, it was more like remembering something. He was at a loss. "I can't teach it, you already know. I told you," Desmond sat back, "you just forgot." He called him birdbrain again, trilling rather than actually speaking.

Connor glared at him. "Don't call me names when I don't understand them. I know that's what you did."

Desmond only grinned and reached out for Connor's plate. "You done with that?" He took it anyway, since the plate was empty, and put the dishes where they belonged.


	14. He's My Son (Trademark Kenway Rage)

The unamused look on Ziio's face was familiar to Haytham when he showed up. "What is it Haytham?" she asked, clearly in no mood for him or what he had to say. She could be so cold sometimes, especially to him. It was like she couldn't decide if she was okay with being with an avian or not. Peer pressure probably.

"I need some help," he said because he knew she loved it when he admitted he needed her, and not just physically.

"Something the mighty avian needs the help of a human for? Now that's something you don't hear every day," she said, now amused with him. When she wasn't cold she was warm and Haytham knew she hadn't been as cranky to see him as she'd first appeared.

He put his hands on her desk, "I need a mission file. The last avian mission."

"The one with Rauf and-

"No. The current one," Haytham said.

She pursed her lips at him, "Those files are sealed until the operative is debriefed. You know that."

"Please, Ziio? For me?" it wasn't the first time he'd asked for this stuff, nor was it the first time he manipulated her though looks. Connor wasn't good at it, but Haytham nearly pouted at her.

She scowled at him, "Fine," she rolled her eyes.

"You're the best, my dear," and he laid a soft, swift, kiss, on her cheek.

She grinned in amusement as she started to print something out, "I know."

Once the file was done printing Haytham took them, "Thank you my dear you've been a fantastic help," and she laughed when he took her hand and kissed it. "Next time we should meet under less trying circumstances."

"Oh get out of here," and she shooed him away.

He left with a grin and headed back for the avian wing and started to read the mission briefing. His brows went up in slow increments as he read until his eyebrows joined with his hairline. "My," he said slowly as he drew near his father's room, "you've been a bad boy, Bill."

Haytham found Edward in his room only because this was Edwards designated 'don't bother me unless someone is dying' time. Haytham didn't bother to knock, he just went in. "The hell what are you- oh, Haytham," Edward was sitting up now, though he had been laying around.

"Bill's been lying to us," Haytham said.

"Well we knew that," Edward said, unimpressed.

"And... Desmond was right. He sent Altair to either die, or get hurt so badly he'd..."

Edward's wings suddenly snapped open, Haytham hadn't even had to finish before Edward was furious. "He would dare?" Edward asked blue eyes dangerous and Haytham was reminded very pointedly why Edward was the leader of the flock and not him, even if Haytham did do the boring stuff Edward hated to do. Edward was mild mannered when he needed to be, and rather passive. But his father could be like fire in ways Haytham was amazed by. Haytham kept his wings close to his back reminded very pointedly who the leader was by the display of dominance.

"It looks so," Haytham said.

"Why the hell would he do this to us?" Edward demanded.

"I believe that also has to do with Desmond. You're aware of his and Altair's more physical relationship?"

"What of it?" because of course it meant nothing to them.

"I don't think Bill was happy about it."

Edward's nictitating membrane flicked across his eye quickly and he got out of bed. "One of my flock might be feral because some human can't handle the fact that his son found our company more appealing than them?" he growled.

"You know how Bill is. Very controlling, especially of his son. Desmond didn't do anything unless Bill said," and Haytham didn't realize he was doing it at first but he was making himself look smaller in front of Edward. His leader was furious and with great spread wings Haytham was very aware of it. He half hated himself for being so weak but also knew that it wasn't a good idea to mess with Edward either.

"Tell the flock to stay in the wing," Edward said, suddenly calm and shit Haytham knew that look as Edward's wings sagged a little. Something bad was going to happen. Like Haytham and even Connor, Edward had the Kenway rage. It was explosive at first but then it got sucked up and put to purpose. Edward tucked his wings behind him, now seemingly at ease. "Once you have meet me at Bill's office. We have a bird to pluck," and the only indication of his displeasure was a slight snarl on his lips. Edward left and Haytham waited a few seconds before going to do as he was told, kicking himself for being so meek before his father's anger. Even if it wasn't directed at him. Everyone saw them as running the flock together but it was times like this that reminded Haytham of how large the gulf between them really was.

Desmond was blissfully unaware of the events unfolding within the compound. Perhaps blissful wasn't the exact word for what he was feeling, but ultimately, he was unaware that Haytham had followed up and looked into the situation.

He was trying to get airborne. Without jumping off of the tower. It took a lot of running down the field, jumping and flapping furiously, although there was a limit to how quickly Desmond could move the huge limbs. The most he got was a bit of hang time even with the light breeze. The only reason why he was trying so hard was that Connor told him he couldn't. He was too tall, even though his wings were so large, which just made them heavier.

The others had told Haytham he could find the boys out in the training area. And he did. Desmond looked like he was trying to get powered lift off, but was struggling. He nearly scoffed, powered lift off was impossible, everyone knew that. "Boys," he called, not needing to go over to them since his voice carried just fine. "Come inside, now. I don't want lip, Edward's ordered everyone inside and no I won't tell you why; you'll find out with the rest of the flock when its over."

Desmond gave one last jump, struggling to bring his wings back up in time. Close, but not close enough. He landed a lot less heavily than he had been, folding them up after shaking them out to get his feathers to lie in order.

Connor was first back inside, Desmond having to trek across the field. He paused by Haytham, looking like he wanted to say something, and ended up standing there almost until it became awkward. "You won't understand him," Desmond finally said, gaze not quite meeting Haytham's. He knew what this was about without even having to ask.

"Just get inside," Haytham said and closed the door once he was. "Everyone is to stay inside the avian wing until further notice. Do not go into the human side of the compound, do not go into the archive," he pointed at Desmond purposefully. Not waiting for an answer he immediately left the avian wing and headed for Bill's office.

He found Edward waiting outside the office for him, his arms were folded and the only tenseness was in his wings. "Took you long enough," Edward grunted.

"Well I'm here now. Have you thought what you wanted to say?"

"Oh yeah."

"Then what are we waiting for?"

Edward turned and pushed the door open. Bill was sitting at his desk like Haytham had seen him last time. "Edward, Haytham, is everything all right?" since they only came together when something was wrong.

"No," Edward said, "in fact nothing is all right," and his feathers puffed up and his wings expanded a bit. Unlike when Haytham did it when Edward unfurled his wings it was intimidating since they were huge and black and made him look like the Morningstar.

Bill swallowed, "Edward?" he asked carefully.

"We know what you did," he accused him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Altair. His mission to South America. The one he wasn't supposed to come home from," the tips of Edward's wings brushed against the walls of Bill's office easily and he still had wings to spare.

"What? What are you talking about? Of course he was supposed to come home-

"Then care to explain this?" Haytham held up the papers Ziio had printed off for him. "You purposefully left important information out of our briefing and thus his. You sent him somewhere he had no hope to return alive from. Or, in the case he was as well trained as you feared, be too weak to make the flight home or contact us. You expected him in such an event to go feral."

"That's an awful lot of speculation," Bill said, in a sort of calm that made it obvious he was trying to not watch what he'd done blow up in his face.

"It isn't speculation," Haytham said. "Your own son used some artifacts to scry Altair- What? Didn't know we could do that?"

Bill was on his feet, "You aren't to use the artifacts!" he snapped, "That was the agreed upon negotiations for us to keep you-

"Keep us?" Edward asked quietly. "Is that what you think you are Bill? Our keepers? We are Avians, the superior race. We allow you to benefit from our existence in this place. You have a powerful scare tactic and intimidator, superior warriors and we keep you from the temptation of the artifacts by holding them. Yet you see fit to insult us like this? I am not Rashid, which I know you think is a good thing. But let me remind you that this is my flock and I will not see it brought low because you're a petty human."

"And if you didn't have us who would you have?" Bill snapped.

Edward faltered here. Rashid had been the first avian to come to the compound. The others, including Edward, had been 'collected' from the outside. Babies who were born to normal people through a genetic hiccup and been rejected by their human parents. Put up for adoption and came to the notice of the Assassins and the flock. Even Ezio had been at first rejected by his family. There was no place for avians outside the wild. Or that was the general thought.

"Leo's people would help us if you wouldn't," Haytham said. Often overlooked, Leonardo was on loan from the Guild, a similar organization like the Assassins only totally neutral and passive in their and Abstergo's schemes. They strove to advance technology and allow minds to thrive unhindered by the restrictions placed on normal society.

"They'd experiment on you. You should be grateful to us. And this is how you repay us?"

"This is how you repay us?" Edward demanded. "You try to kill a member of my flock at best or a worst hope he goes feral. You insult us to our face thinking we are birds kept in a cage for your amusement. Do not forget who found all those artifacts William," he spat the name venomously, "It was Rashid and I who did so. We keep them out of greedy human hands who can't deny the siren song. We have done much for you. And you attempt to kill one of my men because he slept with your son?"

There was a sudden lull in the argument as if the elephant had been suddenly noticed. Then Bill's mouth went thin and his lips pale, "I did what I needed to to protect my son."

Edward flapped and destroyed a shelf and sent paper flying, "He isn't your son anymore!" Edward yelled, "He is in my flock. He is my son. You gave up fatherhood the moment he was born avian. That was Rashid's deal and mine. They are my flock. My men. If they want to fuck like rabbits I could care less. If they want to beat each other up I could care less. But what I do care about is when meddling humans get in the way of my flock functioning. Consider this a notice William. We are going to retrieve our fallen member, and when we return our deal is through. I can take plenty of insults William. God knows you've done your best to alienate us from humans since Rashid has died," he pointed at William, "But this is the last one. I won't tolerate your insults any longer. Our deal is over, consider the flock independant from now on. Haytham," and he folded his wings to fit through the little human door and stormed out. Haytham sent a last, narrowed eye look at Bill and followed after him. When they left Bill fell back into his chair, all the air leaving his lungs.

There wasn't exactly a place for them to gather that wasn't in one of the flock's rooms, and that was where most of them stayed: in their respective rooms. Desmond paced his, nervous and impatient. He would have much rather gone to the archive, but he listened to Haytham, and stayed away from it against his better judgement and instinct. It was a waiting game, and that was one game that Desmond was horribly inept at. He could hear Connor rustling in his own room, and finally just asked to come in, knocking on his door into the bathroom.

Some company was better than none, but neither of them had anything to talk about, and sat in silence, preening each other.

Rauf knocked on Connor's door. Mainly because it was first when he walked down the hall. "Boys," he called and a moment later the door was opened by Connor. was sitting on the bed, watching them. "Come with me, Edward has ordered everyone to the archive," he said seriously, all of his normal good humor gone.

Desmond pushed himself off of the bed, following Connor and Rauf to the archive. He let out a shaky breath. There was something about the entirety of the flock being there that made his heart skip. His eyes flicked over the door, and he almost didn't want to enter the room. He could hear the artifacts from the hallway.

Fighting the urge to cover his ears, Desmond slipped in after Connor. The room was by no means small, but filled with the entire flock minus one, it was trying for comfort. Connor gave him a nudge, and Desmond just shook his head, jerking his thumb toward one of the pedestals. He didn't trust English to come from his mouth.

Rauf took his place with the others in the ring around Edward who radiated with purpose and anger. Yusuf came up next to Rauf and Rauf leaned against him. Normally he'd offer a wing but Edward's were splayed and the way they were set made him keep his tucked up close.

"Everyone," Edward said once everyone had arrived, "we've been betrayed. The humans have decided that one of our own is unworthy of the life we now live. As you all know Altaïr is on a mission and we haven't heard from him in nearly four months," Rauf frowned. He didn't like it any better than anyone else, but it had to be done.

"It's come to my attention that William has purposely sabotaged Altaïr's mission. His personal vindication for Altaïr's... Natural inclination," any other time Rauf would have snorted that Edward had basically admitted that yes, Altaïr was basically the flock slut. But Rauf nor anyone dared say anything. Several of them did turn and look at Desmond though. Though the marks Altaïr had left were long since faded of anyone you could still catch the slightest whiff of Altaïr on Desmond lie his scent refused to be totally washed away. Rauf turned back to Edward when he started to talk again.

"It was William's intention to get Altaïr killed. I can tell you this: he isn't dead. Much worse."

"He's feral?" Rauf asked and pursed against Yusuf firmly, to remind himself he was there.

"That's what we think, yeah," Edward nodded. "As of now the flock has disengaged from the Assassins. We are independent," everyone was too surprised to say anything about that. "Don't worry though, everything will be all right. We've already got something planned. While it world itself out though I need some of you to go to South America and find Altaïr, bring him home. Do I have any volunteers?"

"I will," Rauf said despite Yusuf looking like he wished Rauf would shut up.

Desmond looked up when Ed asked for volunteers rather than assigning it out. He raised his hand when he couldn't get 'I'll go,' to come out of his mouth. Knowing he probably had no place requesting to go, but hoping he could do something finally got him to speak up, though his voice was a lot meeker than he intended. He had no experience outside of the Order, he'd never even been out locally.

Yusuf wasn't happy about Rauf's immediate response, and opened his mouth to speak, but Ezio beat him to it. "How many will you send? I think I speak for all of us when I say we want to bring Altair back home, able to fly the distance or not." Ezio's gaze passed over the faces around the room before settling back on Edward and Haytham. "Who can make it and who can't is still important."

There were obvious choices of those who would be best to retrieve Altair, and Desmond with his relative inexperience with navigating and even flying was not one of the best. He knew that all too well, and didn't like what Ezio was implying, although it was true. Even Malik would have opted to go if he could fly, but as the realist of them all, he simply stood back and watched.

"Put your hand down Desmond," Haytham said, "you don't have the stamina for the flight."

"I just want to send two or three. Speed is important, especially if Altair is feral like we fear. Him away from us will just make it harder to come back," Rauf swallowed at that and they all heard the unsaid 'if' he could come back.

"I'll go with Rauf," Haytham said which surprised him, he expected Haytham to stay. Though he supposed it made sense, if Altair could recognize Haytham enough to remember he was a flock leader it'd be easier to get him to come home.

Desmond shot Haytham a slight snarl. "It... He doesn't remember, you'd have to take him by force..." He backed off, if only because Haytham was right, he also didn't think he'd have the stamina. "I don't even know if he'd understand English." He didn't know for sure what to expect, and he only had the incoherent sensations from the Crystal Ball to refer to. "They don't operate like us. It's about size, and wingspan and... feathers."

Christ, the artifacts would not shut up. You need to go. "I knew he was in trouble. I need to go."

Edward frowned, and then looked at Haytham. They couldn't really say Desmond would slow them down honestly if Haytham was going. "Father," Haytham said in warning, clearly he knew what Edward was about to say.

"Fine. You can come. Haytham you're staying here."

"What?" Rauf asked.

"Edward you can't just leave," Haytham said.

"You can't fly and Altair is part of my flock. I need to go get him and if Desmond insists on going might a well let him come so we don't find him trailing after us later. This way at least I can keep my eye on him," Edward said, sounding very reasonable about the whole thing.

Rauf looked at Desmond, then back at Edward, "He'll slow us down. He doesn't have the stamina for prolonged flight-

"Then he'll build it up while we fly. Desmond; we aren't going to go slow for you and we aren't going to stop. You either keep up with us or you stay behind. Is that understood?" Edward asked Desmond sternly.

"Yes, sir."


	15. Into the Rabbit Hole

Flying with a bag, thin as it was, slung between his wings was hard to get used to, not to mention the fact that they were flying pretty much nonstop. There were plenty of times Desmond thought he'd fall right out of the sky, but he kept Rauf and Edward's huge wingspan in view. It really was one of the best tests of his endurance though, and he quickly learned the most energy efficient way to fly according to his wing type.

The weapon on his arm was an unfamiliar weight. He'd had training with lighter versions of it that weren't harmful, but this was a weapon strapped to his arm. The ring attached to his middle finger and fed back into the device. Just knowing that he could trigger it right up against someone and it would release with enough power to punch right through the spinal column made him giddy with undue, nervous excitement. Desmond wasn't sure if he'd actually be able to kill something, despite being trained to do so from the first moments he could remember.

Something was tugging him down to the clouds below them. He wasn't sure if Ed or Rauf felt it, and pushed himself to get a little closer so he wouldn't have to waste too much breath that could be better used to pump his wings. "Do you feel that? There's something. Something down there." Desmond pointed down at the layered clouds.

Edward looked down at Desmond. He hung high up on the thermals, his huge wings perfect for motionless flight as they were long and thin like an albatross.

"I feel it too," Rauf said, and Edward had to bank so he didn't overshoot the two of them. Damn Rauf able to nearly hover in place. "Feels like an artifact."

Normally Edward would order it be ignored. But they were closing in on the area Altaïr had had his mission. Avians, especially ferals, were attracted to ancient sites, especially those that contained artifacts. He could be here, or be around. "We'll check it out," Edward said and started his slow glide down, it was impossible for him to move quickly unless he had water beneath him to break his fall. Rauf angled downward and dropped like a rock. Edward watched from a high as his gray wings flashed open closer to the canopy and waited for the two big winged avians.

Desmond lined himself up and closed his wings partially and dove, much slower than Rauf had. He snapped them open, having to drop a bit through the trees, actually grabbing on to the branches. All things considered, he landed pretty well, flapping a bit more to keep himself up and not topple.

His attention was drawn down again and he began to slip down through the branches, eyes wide and slipping into Eagle Vision out of instinct. He'd never seen a wild avian, but he was seeing them now, bright outlines. Small figures, but warm figures. Desmond was afraid to move any closer, pretty much clutching to the tree. His hands grasped just fine, but his feet weren't made to perch, and the bark was slippery.

"Don't go too far," Rauf said, like Desmond in the second sight. He'd seen wild avians once. A man and woman and their small, wingless, son. They'd attacked him on sight. He had no warm and fuzzy feelings about his wild brethren. Thankfully he'd been able to get away. "We need to wait for Edward. Though he's slow as all hell getting down," he sighed.

Desmond didn't reply to Rauf. He didn't move from where he was though, just staring down at all of them. He couldn't tell much from there, and frowned. Seriously, he couldn't stand it. Behind him, his wings rustled, folding tighter against his back.

Edward landed eventually, grabbing a branch with both hands like landing on his feet. "We get lucky?" he asked Rauf.

"Small flock of avians in the area," Rauf said.

"Good," he folded up his wings and after clearing his throat made a noise that was clearly a bird call. It was the sound he'd heard wild flock leaders make when they announced their presence to each other out when they entered new territory.

He got a reply and strange enough, the man who called back sounded huge

Desmond straightened up a bit, gaze flicking and unblinking. He made a soft sound, realizing that all of their attention was upward, and it wasn't exactly friendly. It wasn't as hostile as it could be either, but the fact that they were higher up wasn't helping the situation.

"We have to go down. Approach at their level." He slipped through the trees, heading away from the group of wild avians somewhat. Desmond didn't wait for there to be a yes or no from Ed, which was probably bad on his part.

"Desmond," Edward hissed after him but the kid didn't listen. "God damnit. Rauf, keep an eye on him," he ordered. Rauf nodded and thanks to his shorter wings he could actually fly down to Desmond's level.

"Desmond the hell are you doing?" Rauf asked as Edward started to slowly pick his way down. In the upper canopy there was no room for his huge wings, his or Desmond's really.

He looked at Rauf, stopping. Desmond looked a little confused. "You don't come in from above unless you're attacking. Height advantage. We're not trying to start a fight, are we?" His wings rustled, feathers raised against what felt like constant water droplets falling on them, but it was simply the size of them folded behind him.

"I'm going down to talk," he said simply, and continued his task, calling softly as he began to move toward the group. Desmond was more curious than afraid, and honestly, rather amazed at what he saw even with the extra visual sense. There were feathers, not just on the skin of their backs, but on their arms. Even from there, not yet at the edge of the clearing, Desmond could tell that he was taller than most every avian he for one.

He was a brilliant, familiar hue, confident and a little blue at the edges, but wary. The gold wash gave him away - it was Altair.

Desmond didn't like the golden winged bird nearby him, something in him aware of how the feral hierarchy worked. He was jealous, wanting to spread his wings and flaunt their size and his own patches of gold. That wasn't why they were here. They weren't here to take it over, they were here to bring Altair back.

Rauf looked up at Edward who was easing himself down slowly. "Just keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn't do anything stupid," Edward said, clearly seeing Desmond wasn't going to listen to him. This was, of course, one of the reasons they hadn't wanted to bring Desmond.

Rauf nodded and flew down to below Desmond's level and landed on a smaller tree trying to muscle its way into some space between giants. He forced his feathers to lay flat. In the second sight he could see the other avians too, through the trees and he didn't like it. This was a pretty big flock, almost six strong, meaning they were strong enough to fend off others from their territory. Rauf had a wingspan about equivalent to a normal, feral, avian, as was his stature. He had no idea where he'd come from before the fortress but part of him thought his parents had been feral because he was similarly sized to them.

"Des, I know you think you're helping but I swear to god if they attack us I'm blaming you," he told Desmond. Usually flocks just intimidated each other rather than actually fight one another because that could result in injuries. Edward proclaiming himself was just to get them to die down and leave them alone. The fact that someone so big had responded meant that yeah Altair was here, and two it meant they were horrifically outnumbered if the wild avians decided to attack.

He didn't move for some time, only indication that he'd heard Rauf being a twitch of his feathers. "I want to know you again," Desmond said quietly, hoping that he was right in assuming they spoke like the artifacts did. It was more like saying know as if to meet someone, to get to know them. He'd moved close to the edge of the ruins, but stayed pretty much in the foliage. The size of his wings wasn't helping him appear nonviolent.

All at once all the movement around them stopped. Rauf couldn't help that his wings fluttered a little, now nervous. Above them Edward stopped moving. Rauf watched the ruins but nothing happened. Then someone called back to Desmond but Rauf had no idea what the hell they'd just said.

"Who are you who claims to know?"

"The soft song. Desmond. … Rauf, Edward." He had no idea if Altair would remember any of their names. "I sang to those. The remnants, what remains. To you, I know you." Desmond had been trying pretty hard not to steal glances at the ruins, the source of the lonely little song. It wasn't his, even though it kept calling.

Rauf looked at Desmond like he was crazy. When he looked up Edward was looking like he could sort of understand what the hell was going on, but not really. Other than Desmond Edward spent the most time with the artifacts and apparently he could sort of make heads or tails of this twittering. He did know that the foreign flock suddenly started talking until the big one squawked and made them all shut up again.

"Know you also. What want?"

"See you. That you remember, you know." Desmond dropped to the ground, and it was incredibly hard for him to appear smaller. "Not a want. Need." He bit his lip.

Shit, Altair had only gotten incredibly fucking attractive. His gaze slipped back down to his hands, the weapon on his arm. Even with it, he felt vulnerable next to these clawed, lithe birds. Not to mention his young age and inexperience. How long had Altair been like this to get the feathers on his arms and legs?

"Desmond-" Rauf hissed after him, still clinging to the tree. He pressed his hand to his face and looked up when he heard movement. Edward was coming down. Rauf dropped, using his wings to catch himself, unlike Edward or Desmond he wasn't worried about them looking intimidating, they were too small. He landed next to Desmond and swallowed because shit he did not something to go wrong. The ferals would literally rip them apart and their weapons were only so good.

Brighteyes watched the three avians. The rest of his flock was back, in the trees, where he'd told them to stay. Something ticked in the back of his mind like something he forgot. He knew Softsong, though couldn't remember why. His nictitating flashed across his eye rapidly and he cocked his head to the side. They all felt...familiar, the alpha avian's voice resonating deep within his mind though he couldn't bring up the memory ofwhy they were so.

"See you," Brighteyes said and when the smaller avian landed his wings went out a bit before realizing they weren't a threat. Not to him at least. Too small, not like Softsong whose wings were as big as his. "Know you... Softsong," he said slowly, because he did, he'd said that name several times when he'd first joined the flock, told Brightwings about him.

Desmond couldn't help his smile. "You left. Three cycles." Three months. "Too long, afraid you had continued, restarted." Died. It was all about circles. One thing led to the next which led to another, but in the end, led to the beginning again.

"Feather, gave you a feather with a wordbind." The bind had been in English, a promise, even though it had been Desmond asking him to return, to come back to him. The smile was gone, and he wanted to move closer to see him. "Bind to come back to Softsong." He couldn't bring himself to say that Altair had broken that promise, he wasn't even sure if Altair still had the stupid golden feather. After all, his bag was missing, or at least, Desmond didn't see it.

He was so jealous of that avian, the woman with wings that were mostly gold. Dammit, Desmond had given him the golden feather first. His gold feathers were the first ones Altair had seen, not hers.

Brighteyes' brow furrowed. Wordbound feather? He couldn't remember. He took an involuntary step back when the alpha avian landed. His wings pushed themselves outwards, half open, because the alpha avian had used his own to soften his landing. He didn't like an alpha avian in his territory. Bad enough Softsong had wings like his, now this one was here, with wings just as big.

"Tell him I'm not going to do anything," Edward told Desmond, doing his best to tuck his wings behind his back but they weren't meant to fit against his spine anymore. They were too big, too thin, to not always be somewhat outstretched. He could sort of understand what Desmond and Altair were saying, but he couldn't join the conversation.

"No threat." Desmond stepped forward and crouched before spreading his wings to their full extent. Showing the back of one's wings was entirely different than showing the front. The paler front was a challenge. The back was kind of like letting them know that they flew above him, they had the advantage that way.

The artifact in the ruins kept chattering away at him. Brothers- show peace, gentle. Midst the repeated words and beckons, Desmond had never been so sure that the artifacts were all somehow aware of the others existing, not quite aware of their locations, but aware that there were other pieces of the hidden and mostly lost technology. This one knew him in a way that kind of scared him.

He shook his head violently, tearing his attention away from the whispery little song, and looked back up at Altair, wings drawing to his sides, the most comfortable position that didn't have his feathers in the dirt.

"Flew to you. Learned, couldn't before, young, fledgeling." Speaking of it only reminded him all the clearer that he'd imprinted on Altair, and even though he was out of that stage, he wasn't dependent on him, he was still the one he should be talking to. Not to mention that Altair still meant a hell of a lot to him. He didn't want to admit that Altair remembered none of that.

Brighteyes cocked his head at Softsong and then turned his head and found Brightwings in the trees above him. She was watching them with interest. "Be nice to little ones," she called down to him with a smile and he rolled his eyes. Unlike him his Brightwings was far too trusting of strangers. Though perhaps that was a good thing, without her trusting him when he'd first come here he'd be gone now, restarted.

He looked back at Softsong, "You fly now," he said and he could still feel that annoying tickle in the back of his mind. He knew he was supposed to remember something, but he couldn't. He was supposed to do something, or should have done something but it was all hazy and he couldn't bring up things he should have done. But he knew he did remember Softsong, but not how or why. "You find me. What want?"

"I need you. Come back, the flock..." But Altair had one now, he couldn't express the difference. "Family." Desmond was overwhelmingly sad. Not the kind that was upset, just sad. Alone. He hated it, especially when he found it rooted in something as clingy and tight-fingered as love.

The artifact kept tugging at him, and it was a lot easier while he was emotionally compromised. "Left," he said, wings trembling. "Left because the snake told you to. Not to restart. To kill." Desmond couldn't keep in one language, staring somewhere into the space between him and Altair's perch. The snake, a liar. Bill. "He wanted to kill you. Because you markmade, you took, I gave. Snake- Father-" Desmond covered his ears, though it did little to block out the artifact, eyes flickering.

He was just confused, the set of his wings said as much though he didn't let it show on his face.

"What's wrong?" he asked at the same time the alpha avian asked Softsong something.

Edward put his hand on Desmond's arm, "Kid, what's the matter?" he looked towards Altair and he still looked wary, which was reasonable. Edward's presence wasn't helping right now. If Altair had stayed beta he could have reissued his authority easier, but there was no missing how big Altair was. Most of his own flock were lithe with hard, thin, muscles. Edward was the only one among them who was built up and looked like he could strangle you with one hand. Altair looked like that too, big, powerful. And now their helpful translator was having an issue.

"Why is it so sad?" He couldn't tell if it was just echoing his own feelings, or if his feelings were from the artifact in the first place. Desmond's gaze focused on Altair again, eyes more white than gold.

Feral and without memories of him, and the kid still looked to Altair for direction first.

Desmond responded to it vocally, mimicking the song he heard. The words were old coming from his mouth. He needed to see it, touch it. It needed to be touched. Far from concerned with trying to reason Altair into remembering where he came from, and quite frankly, far from remembering that he was surrounded by feral avians himself, Desmond continued sing. It was all much too far beyond him, but he knew where it was coming from, he knew the words it put into his mouth.

Soon, he didn't want to stop, and began to move. Desmond pushed himself up to stand, eyes on the ruins now.

Brighteyes looked when someone moved behind him and before he could stop her Brightwings was on the ground. "Brightwings," he hissed, she just gave him a cool look over his shoulder and he scowled at her. Damn woman. But he didn't stop her either. She hung back a little, wary of the alpha avian who seemed as confused as Brighteyes about what the hell had just happened.

Everyone got a surprise though when Brightwings started to sing, the same way Softsong had. Brighteyes blinked, fully blinked. He didn't know she could do that. Clearly she was singing to Softsong though what was being said was lost to everyone but them. She stopped after a minute and, sort of reluctantly, held her clawed hand out to Softsong. He was about to stop her this time but didn't because the alpha avian stepped away from Softsong.

Desmond took much longer to quiet down, though his attention did shift to Brightwings. His brows furrowed, and he reached out for her hand, whispering rather than singing as loudly. She... heard the remains?

He was confused, and touched her palm with his fingertips, nails almost laughably blunt in comparison to hers. Desmond almost made a pained noise. "Give back," he pleaded quietly, even though he knew it wasn't her fault that Altair didn't remember. "Give... back."

There was all manner of chattering from the wild avians, whispers and jeers, almost. There wasn't a name for what Desmond, Rauf and Edward were. No name for what Altair had looked like before.

"Mine," Brightwings said and looked back at Brighteyes, he didn't like her so close. Too bad, he'd have to deal with it. She looked back at Softsong. Up close to these avians she could smell their difference. They didn't smell like the jungle, they smelled of stale air and a dry, dry, heat that made some of the feathers on his back prickle. Over that was the smell of their flock. It was a big one and made her uneasy, they were bigger than her flock. She pressed his hand flat against Softsong's, like Brighteyes' his hand dwarfed hers. She closed her hand through his fingers, grasping it. "Share with," she smiled a little. "See," and she pulled Softsong forward.

The strange alpha avian took a step forward, confused. "Brightwings-"

"It fine," she looked back at Brighteyes, and smiled, she hadn't seen him this uneasy since they'd found him. "Is fine," she said again. "Follow. I can't make happy. Need you," and she started to pull him towards the ruins. When the flock started to throw up a fuss Brighteyes screeched, telling them to shut up, they did so grudgingly. "They afraid of..." of what really though? There was no word for these avians. They were so featherless she didn't understand how that could be. Maybe it had to do with the fact that they lived somewhere so dry. Too much dry, sand or dirt got into feathers easier. It made sense to her, "Of dry skins. Not me. Come. See," she tugged him towards the ruins again.

Desmond's lip had lifted when she said share, and he grumbled something along the lines of Brighteyes being his first, his before she had even known what he looked like, that she'd ever see him. He fell silent and listened, glancing back at Ed and Rauf.

"They safe? Ed, Rauf...?" He resisted Brightwings at first, pointing at the two of them. Edward became Windcatcher when he spoke, and RaufSwiftflight without even thinking.

Brightwings looked at Brighteyes who was watching them, looking grumpy. She gave him a look and he sighed. "They will be," he said.

"Now come?" she asked Softsong and when he didn't fight her, which to be honest wasn't so much a fight as it was her trying to move a boulder. He let her lead him into the ruins. Here their golden feathers glowed a little in the dim light. She fanned one wing out showing her golden feathers and after a moment brushed them against Softsong's wing. "What remains misses," missed what she didn't know, only that it was sad, and alone. She didn't know how to help it though. No amount of singing made it less sad.

She pulled Softsong down an unlit hall to a room. Part of the wall was cracked and fractured, letting in shafts of bright light. She hadn't been the first one in this place, but she had been the first one to hear when the remains spoke. Brightwings had spent a lot of time here when she was young, this was her place, her father kept most of the others out. It was a tall, golden, stick in the center of the room. Branches stuck up from the top of it and no matter how hard she'd tried she couldn't pull it out since it seemed like it wanted to be pulled out. "What remains," and in the room the song was nearly deafening. She knew it was affecting Softsong more than her since she'd been in here so much.

He was crying by the time Brightwings led him into the desolate room. It was less of a sobbing and more like tears just came from his eyes and tracked down his cheeks. "Home. Touch." It missed many things, and the other words just got caught up in his throat. Desmond's fingers slipped from hers, and his wings spread out somewhat, low and wide around him as he neared the artifact.

It was a staff, really, half stuck into what looked like a port in the floor. Without thinking, Desmond reached out to touch it, which was a stupid, really stupid mistake. It felt like vines of fire crawled up his arm and tightened. The cry he made was shrill. There was no vision, no feelings from it like he'd been expecting. Instead he got a white hot, constricting bolt of pain that raced up to his shoulder and then disappeared, leaving his muscles aching.

Desmond cradled his arm, and watched it continue to descend and disappear into the floor. Something thudded beneath them and the sound of movement stopped. There wasn't so much as a whisper further from the artifact.

Brightwings watched with wide eyes when Softsong touched the remains. It had never... done that before. His scream made her freeze, afraid for a moment that something bad would happen. Then when she saw he was hurt she came forward. "Hurt?" she asked him worriedly. "What happened? What remains only sad, never... hurt," she said helplessly and didn't know what to do.

He just shook his head, feathers still fluffed and standing out. Desmond looked at her, half in Eagle Vision due to the low light. Her golden feathers glowed, and he was sure that his were also. It hit him then that she must have been born here. This flock was from here, and had been here when she feathered.

Desmond reached out to touch her wing, stopping a few inches short from her feathers when he saw the marks etched into his skin glowing just as much as the gilded feathers. The glow there pulsed with his heartbeat. Other than that, it looked like a bunch of lines and curves, nothing that made sense.

Some of the color drained from Brightwing's face when she saw Softsong's hand. Her wings flared outwards abruptly and she used them to jump away, flapping to get extra distance between her and Softsong. "What is that? Markmade," she swallowed. She didn't know what it was, but she didn't like it.

"From what remains." Desmond stared at her, not liking how she decided to deal with it. He shoved his hands into his pockets, wings half folded around him, mostly over his arm. Turning away, he tried to start heading back out, and had to stop right outside of the room. He had no idea which way to go.

"What did you do to my remains?" she demanded, moving after him, but kept her distance. "What happened to them?" they were hers and thisdryskin had just come in and... and made it vanish! She wasn't happy about that at all.

He held out his arm again, as if that explained everything. Desmond glared at Brightwings like a petulant child, shoving the glowing glyphs at her. "Completed." It, unlike them, would not restart. It wouldn't come back further than the ghosts in his skin. He might not have had any idea what it meant, but that was the end of its cycle. Desmond grudgingly waited for her to lead him back out.

"Completed?" gingerly she reached out and touched the tips of his fingers. Nothing happened. She frowned. "But why you? Mine," they'd beenhers, she'd spent her entire life around those remains. Why would they complete with a dryskin and not her?

"There are more that remain." His arm fell heavily against his side. Desmond was tired. He'd just flown halfway across the world without really much any breaks, tried to reason with an Altair that didn't remember who he was, and then got accosted by an artifact. It was a physically and emotionally draining couple of days, and he felt about ready to break down and cry his own tears. "Take me back," Desmond said after a while, voice quiet.

"More?" Brightwings asked, "Show me," and then she took his hand again. "Come," and she led him out of that area and back towards the outside. Brighteyes was standing in front of the entrance to the ruins, Windcatcher and Swiftflight looking worried. She supposed they would, Softsong had screamed very loudly. Brighteyes was keeping them outside though.

When they emerged Brighteyes turned and looked at them, "We're fine," she said sweetly.

"Do not scare me," he told her firmly, frowning. She just shrugged.

"Desmond," Edward said when he saw Desmond. The woman avian let go of his hand and he could move over to him. Rauf followed when he came up to Desmond. His big black wings came out and wrapped around Desmond when he hugged him, Brighteyes made a threatening noise but he ignored it. "You alright, son?" Edward asked, holding onto his shoulders, "We heard you scream."

'More' were back where he was from, from the compound. The archive. Desmond had to remind himself what it was consciously, which probably should have worried him more than it actually did.

He pretty much collapsed against Edward, wings sagging behind him. "I'm fine... The artifact just... shocked me a bit is all." Outside, it was more like a series of fine white scars, nothing too incredibly noticeable. Desmond looked back at Altair, peeking through a gap in Ed's feathers. He had no place getting offended or irritated by this. Honestly, he was too tired to even get angry about it.

"He lost... my feather." Desmond let his forehead rest against Ed's shoulder. "He doesn't remember, and I'm tired, and I just want him back."

Edward squeezed Desmond tightly. "Don't worry, boy. We'll get him back," he promised softly.


	16. Memory Loop

Brighteyes watched the three strange dryskins, as Brightwings had started calling them, from where he was sitting on the ruins. They kept to themselves mainly except to eat, and they helped find enough food for themselves and the flock. Only Softsong really interacted with them, but then he could speak with them like the other dryskins couldn't. Windcatcher seemed to be able to understand some, but not all. It sort of reminded him of himself when he'd come here, half understanding everything. The little one seemed the most anxious about everything though. He didn't like being near them.

They'd been here a few days and Brighteyes was content to just let them stay as they were though he was just happy they weren't a threat to him or his flock. He swung his leg from his perch. He'd told the others to just give them space, the dry skins could join if they wanted but until then just... stay clear.

Not that he could say much about that with Brightwings though. He frowned when she hopped over to them, Softsong specifically. She liked him, though apparently the feeling was no mutual. Brighteyes couldn't do much about it though, she did whatever she wanted no matter what he told her. And she seemed intent on making friends with Softsong even if a few times he looked at her in such a way that made him want to pull Brightwings away from her. He didn't know why Softsong was so hostile to his mate. So long as he didn't touch her though he didn't really care. Softsong or any of them lay a hand on his Brightwings and he'd rip their wings off.

Three days into it, Desmond finally stopped glaring at Brightwings. He almost always looked at Altair with a sad longing, and every day he'd talk to him about different things that happened back at the compound. He talked to him about his wings, how they were already feathering when they came out. About how he imprinted on him. The word actually meant how Altair had become his guardian, like a parent.

He convinced Rauf to hunt with them that day, mostly because Desmond's huge wingspan made him useless aside from dropping down on things from above to skewer them with the hidden blade. Most definitely not the intended use of the weapon, but it got food. He'd stopped eating cooked food at the second meal.

Desmond began calling Brighteyes Altair again, but still slipped up. He just got more and more frustrated as it seemed like he couldn't get through to him more than the fact that he knew Desmond somehow. He spent a lot of time huddled up by himself, or wedged under one of Ed's wings, trying to ignore the fact that staying out here like this with them was beginning to change their bodies to suit living wild.

Brightwings moved over closer to Softsong and Windcatcher. Swiftflight was out hunting with other members of the flock. He hadn't looked happy about it but had done it. Windcatcher and Softsong were like her Brighteyes and had wings too big for the jungle.

"Why so sad?" she asked Softsong, not like Windcatcher could understand her anyway. Well at least not talk back, the way he watched them showed he understood. Better than Brighteyes. He'd been totally useless to any of them and babbled in a language none of her flock had known.

He frowned, not quite sure of how to make her understand. "He remembers but... he doesn't remember." Desmond picked at the little bumps in his forearms that he just knew were feathers. Unlike Rauf, he wasn't that upset with it. They itched, but distracted the eye from the scars which had a habit of lighting up whenever his eyes did.

"I'm afraid... I will forget," he murmured, mostly to himself even though Edward was sitting right there. "Won't leave without... can't leave without." Desmond looked away from her, pretending to be more interested in his toes.

Brightwings frowned at him, "Why you so interested in my Brighteyes?\" she asked him, putting a hand on his knee. "Why you come so far from dry home to here? He's happy. No dig up old things."

"Important to me. Was mine first, before this." He still hated it when she said things like that, and continued softly, "Don't function." Desmond bit his lip. Altair wasn't just important to Desmond, he was one of their flock. Ed's flock.

His shoulders sagged along with his wings. "Grew with him," Desmond said, feeling his chest tighten. He hugged his knees close and curled up even tighter. "Too human, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. I need Alty." No longer caring if Brightwing understood, one choked sob was all it took. It was selfish. He didn't care about that either.

"Miss him more than what remains, need him. Said he would come back, wordbind."

Brightwings frowned and watched as Windcatcher pulled his wing over him protectively like her father did to her when she was scared. "Sorry," and she did mean it. Brighteyes was one of them though. He was hers. She didn't want to let him go, especially not to some beta who thought he had singular claim on him. "Share?" she asked, because it was expected. Brighteyes never showed interest in the other men of the flock, only her.

"Brighteyes," she looked up, startled when it was Windcatcher who spoke. "Go."

She frowned, "No mean upset," she said.

"Go," Windcatcher said again firmly.

She brushed her part golden wings against Softsong's. "No sad. He know you. Try more," but she got up, leaving them and went over to Brighteyes. He got up when she approached and hopped down from the ruins, pulling her inside. She smiled as he did.

The problem he was having was that exactly. Brighteyes- Altair wasn't interested in anything but Brightwings. It was like his entire past never existed. "What if I'm wrong," Desmond said after a while, breathing somewhat regularly. "What then. What if he doesn't remember. Never remembers. I've told Alty everything. Everything that I have words for."

"He's been out here months, Desmond," Edward said, "And we've been here three days. The mind is funny. Sometimes it doesn't work the way you expect it to. I believe Altaïr will come back to us. He just needs a bit more time is all," he said gently and pulled Desmond closer to him with his wing. "Trust him."

"He lost my feather."


	17. And Clawing Back Out (Synapse)

Desmond had to change some things about how he wore his tools and clothes. He kept the bag near him at all times, but it wasn't always on his back. He'd used the blade to cut his jeans into shorts, but he kept them on if only to remind him /where he was from/. They had to either go or get cut off because of the stupid feathers. After a while, he had also stopped calling Altair Brighteyes altogether. "Alty." He crouched down by him. "Aaalty. You lost the last one."

He wiped the quill of the feather in his hand off, and then tucked the golden feather behind Altair's ear. It was one of the smallest he could reach. For the first time Desmond's fingers actually itched to pluck his golden primaries, even though he knew it would hurt, and it would leave him incapacitated.

The gesture itself, he felt, probably wouldn't mean much to Altair. Brightwings had more golden feathers than he did. There was still this... stupid smile on his face, as if it was fine. He'd just cracked a little more.

Brighteyes tilted his head at Softsong. He didn't normally let others close enough to touch, he didn't like others in his space, crowding him. Brightwings was, he thought, the one exception. Turned out he didn't mind when Softsong got close either. Up till now though he'd sort of stayed out of touching distance and had never touched Brighteyes. Now he put a feather behind his ear.

Something was churning in Brighteyes' memories, fighting to get out, to be remembered. "Aaalty," he mimicked, even able to mimic some of Softsong's sound. He tugged the feather out from behind his ear and looked at it. The gesture was familiar, like he'd done it before. But he couldn't remember when, or why. Why would he put a feather behind his ear? "Alty," he said it again, to himself, as he studied the feather, turning it between his fingers. He frowned deeply. Why couldn't he remember? Brightwings said he should remember, try to remember. So he was. He was trying. But it was hard.

"Aaalty," Desmond cooed, and rocked back. Listening to him mimic the sounds was amusing, a little painful but it made him happy in a weird way. He hummed, arms crossed over his knees.

Even though the feathers pushing through his skin covered most of the scarring, the lines shimmered on the feathers, bands and stripes of gold. Desmond couldn't wear the hidden blade without adjusting it each time for the feathers, and simply took it off and left it in his bag.

He reached out for Altair's face, the movement slow until his fingers touched the scar slicing through his lip.

Brighteyes almost jerked back when Softsong touched his face. No, that was wrong. He was Softsong but that wasn't his /name/. Just like he was Brighteyes but that... That wasn't him. He squeezed his eyes shut. Why was this so damn difficult? He wanted to remember. He didn't like seeing Softsong so upset though had no idea why. He knew Softsong but how and why did he let some strange avian touch him and not even members of his own flock?

He thought about it so hard he nearly gave himself a headache. Then his lips formed around a word he didn't know. But, he did know it. But he didn't know how to say it. It was right there, on the tip of his tongue. He had a feeling that if he could remember it he could remember more. He mouthed the word a few times but didn't know quite how to say it still. He sucked his teeth.

Then, all at once, it came to him and he felt like the biggest moron in the world. "Shit," he said, the first real word he'd spoken in English in nearly three months. "Desmond?" though fuck that didn't sound like his name. Where the hell did he learn to talk? It came out more like 'deshmind' but it was very clear what he was saying. Now he knew why the feather behind his ear was so familiar. So much was still foggy but it'd be okay; he remembered Desmond.

With a furious nod, Desmond smashed his mouth against Altair's, catching him with it half open. He licked the scar the way he almost always had. It was messy, and he was probably crying, but his wings twitched, wanting to open, to move, do something. His breath got away from him too quickly because of that, and Desmond kind of just... breathed against his lips.  
"Yeah. Yeah, you fucking lied to me. Come back to me means go home, not make me find you." He hadn't stopped smiling.

"I'm sorry," Altaïr said. Yes, that was him. He remembered now. How the hell had he forgotten his own name? He didn't know how he could ever forget that. "I'm sorry," he said again. "No... Don't," he corrected himself, "cry," he cupped Desmond's face in both hands and wiped under his eye with his thumb, mindful of how sharp his nails were. Who was he kidding these weren't nails, they were talons. "Desmond," and he smiled when he said the kid's name.

He didn't remember everything, he doubted he ever would. The amnesia was clearly there to protect him from whatever trauma had landed him here in the first place. Some things were hazy, most things, but he remembered Desmond. He remembered home, because Desmond and the others smelled like home. He felt a sudden deep ache in his chest. He wanted to go home. But instinct was pulling on him. He was the leader of a new flock. Could he really just abandon them?

Yes. Probably, he could. He wasn't like them and other than being big enough to scare away any other avian who came into their territory he wasn't much use to them. With his huge wings he couldn't hunt, could barely move through the jungle honestly.

Altaïr looked behind him, he felt someone watching, it was Brightwings. He frowned deeply at that but turned away. He had too many things going on in his head right now and he didn't want to bring her into it. He looked back at Desmond and pressed his forehead against Desmond's. "Home," he said because it was easier to convey his longing and homesickness and wanting to see his old flock, and everything associated with home through the one avian word than it was to try and untangle all that meaning in English. He didn't even have enough words in English to say all that. He remembered some, but it was all so distant it seemed like. He just knew that at least he wanted to go home. And he wanted to wear fucking pants again.

"Found you," Desmond whispered, "know you." He closed his eyes, cooing softly. His hands rested on Altair's forearms, smoothing the small feathers with his thumbs.

After a few moments, he sat back and let him go, a chuckle interrupting the sounds he was making. "I..." Desmond touched a mark on Altair's stomach, and stopped cold. His hands went to his leg, knowing exactly where the second scar would be even with the new feathers on his thigh. "No. No way," he muttered. The exit wounds were pretty gnarled in comparison to every other scar Altair had, but they were right where he had felt them. Desmond wasn't sure whether to be disturbed or amazed that the Ball had actually been right.

Altair reached down to touch the scar, his fingers pressing against Desmond's. He hadn't thought about the scars in a long time. He didn't remember much about them, but he knew they'd hurt. His amnesia seemed to intent on blocking out the trauma of them. At the least he remembered how he got them, it was one of the few things he could remember sharply before now, "Shot," he said, "Stupid," that he was stupid. He'd made a stupid mistake that he could have avoided. He hadn't though and had paid for it by getting shot.

He started when Brightwings suddenly crouched down between them. She had a certain look on her face that made Atair feel guilty for some reason. Of course she'd seen Desmond kiss him and by the set of her wings he knew that while she wasn't pissed about it she wasn't totally happy about it. He'd only shown any intimacy with her before this. "Speak like dry skins," she said, not happy about it.

"And us," he assured her and realized she was more afraid of him becoming like one of his old flock again than any threat Desmond might pose to their relationship.

Desmond's lip curled back in a vague, half hearted snarl. "Did not know before." He pulled away again, to get away from Brightwings, mostly. "Speaks like family. Learned this, not know." He said family in a way that clearly meant their flock, not this one. "Home."

Brightwings cocked her head at Desmond, "Mine," she told him. Her family, her mate, her Brighteyes, not Softsong's, and most certainly that she was in his flock as he was in hers. Nothing Desmond would change the fact that while Altair might be a part of Desmond's flock he was also a part of hers.

Altair felt uncomfortable and he realized he was in a really shitty position. Of course now he knew why Desmond was upset about Brightwings, markmade he couldn't take back. Brightwings didn't seem to like Desmond's hostility either. He sort of just wanted to step back and hope they didn't fight. "Just calm," Altair said because he didn't want a fight.

He stood up, staring down at Brightwings for a while. "You promised me," Desmond said quietly, not looking away from her. His wings shuffled, and folded as neatly behind him as they could. "You became like her, you aren't like her. … You're one of us, even though we're all becoming like this."

Desmond picked at his nails. They were nowhere near the stage Altair's were at. "We're... probably leaving pretty soon after Ed knows you've remembered at least something, but if you're staying you have to tell him yourself. I won't- I can't-" His gaze flicked over to him.

"Rauf can't stand it." And he hated making him miserable for the time it took to get through to Altair. He wondered how worried Yusuf was at home... What they were doing at home. Desmond decided he'd force himself to leave, with or without Altair, and whether or not Brightwings was in tow.

He looked at Brightwings again, pointing at Altair. "Altair," He said slowly. "Altair mine," Desmond said, and touched his chest. "Brighteyes yours. Both ours." It was the first time he'd even hinted that he was okay with being a second partner.

Altair breathed a sigh of relief when Desmond said that. He knew in their flock it was usually exclusive, and they had very human relationships where it was one to one. Wild avians were nothing like that. If you were lucky you were in a flock with a woman and she picked who she wanted to be with, they sometimes became the alpha, sometimes they didn't. Altair had because he was big. Alphas were just... bigger, their bodies becoming fit enough to protect their territory and their flock from predators or other flocks. He'd always been a beta male before this, men who didn't usually get to be with a woman. It led to a lot of homosexuality and multiple partners. Other than between a man and woman there was no real exclusivity- beta men usually not around near the women alone since they would try to have sex with them if given the chance- and it was sort of expected that the alpha could be intimate with any member of his flock. Altair had never been really, he'd only shown interest in Brightwings; which was weird. The alpha before him had enjoyed his flock readily.

"Ours," Brightwings said and looked at Altair. "You go?" she asked him.

"I go. Home," because he missed home and wanted to be there. He was sure if he was there he'd remember more. He'd remember how to speak English again, more than just bits and phrases at least.

Brightwings frowned, "I go?" she asked.

"Uh..." Altair scratched his head, as always mindful of the talons at the end of his fingers. Avians didn't scratch their heads really, too easy to pierce the skin, it was distinct trait only Altair had out here. "Will ask Windcatcher- Edward," though like Desmond the name came out funny. Ds were horrifically difficult to say for some reason.

"He is... our alpha," Desmond said, having taken a step back. "You won't try to fight him for that, will you? There's a lot of shit that went down after you went MIA." There was no way Haytham would take Altair seriously if he couldn't remember how to speak English cohesively. And Malik would probably be irritated that he'd also forgotten Arabic. Rauf hadn't really expressed an opinion, though. He looked back to where Ed and Rauf were, both of them markedly less comfortable out here than Desmond was.

"No," Altair said, forcing the English out because he needed it. He needed it so he could remember all the things he'd forgotten. They were important, he knew that. He wouldn't just let these important words go again. But they were hard and he had to think about each one as he said it. It was infuriating that he was so slow at it when he knew before he'd spoken so freely and easily. "I never wanted... my- this position. I just want to have what I had... before,"- such a stupidly complex idea to a wild avian since while they had memories like normal humans and able to form complex thoughts and memories before was such a loaded word. Before not just meant something that had happened in the past, but it also meant when they were something, when they weren't just these winged humans in the woods- "all this happened," Altair said.

Desmond crouched back down in front of Brightwings, reaching for her hands. He pulled her up along with him when he stood, ignoring the looks from the wild avians. They were still iffy about the three dryskins, but Desmond really only needed to fluff out his wings to get them to leave him be. They were unendingly curious about Rauf - afterall, he was pretty much their size, and flew just as well as they did in the jungle. He hunted a little strangely, but it only served to fuel their curiosity.

"Aa... Adha, Brightwings, Adha."

"Asha," Brightwings said, she didn't like the way Softsong was saying her name. Asha wasn't her name either, it was too constraining. She looked at Brighteyes, "What is... Asha?"

"Adha," Brighteyes said, forcing out the d sound out though it sounded so strange. "You, Adha."

"Brightwings," she said stubbornly.

"Only Desmond speak like us. You want to come, you need speak like dryskins," he said, "Need dryskin name. Adha."

She frowned at him, "Adha," she said but couldn't do it easily. "What is Brighteyes?"

"Altair," her Brighteyes said, "Brighteyes is Altair. Softsong is Desmond."

"Ehgsmond," she said and Brighteyes snorted at her. She whapped him with her wing, hard. "Softsong prettier," she said.

Desmond was quiet for a while, amused at the two of them trying to wrap their mouths around sounds that weren't native to the language from the artifacts. "Tongue to teeth. Duh." He made the sound a couple of times, before saying his name again, and then hers, which was still easier because the vowel sound still came first. And it still sounded somewhat like the word for bright.

"Duh," Brightwings said, "Adha," but it still felt so funny on her tongue. "Desmond," then she looked at Brighteyes, "Altair."

"Yes," Altair said. Adha smiled. "Need to talk to Edward," he got up with a grunt. "Stay with Desmond," he looked at Desmond, "Don't be so mean with the words," he said, since d sounds were hard for them, and even hard for Altair, though he said them with more ease than Brightwings.

Then he left the both of them, "Edward," he called when he got closer to his leader.

Edward looked up sharply, "Altair?" Altair nodded slowly. Edward jumped to his feet, "Oh thank god! I was starting to lose hope on you kid," and he knocked Altair's shoulder. "Des was about to lose his damn mind over you."

"Sorry," Altair said, "I want to go home."

"We'll go home," and Edward squeezed Altair's shoulder.

"I want... pants," and Edward laughed so hard he nearly fell over.

Desmond made an indignant chirping sound. He wasn't being mean. At least, he didn't think he was being mean. He looked down at Brightwings, and then over at Altair. "Edward. Big wings, Windcatcher." His finger was levelled at the still fit, tattooed man. The tattoos were something that made some of the wild avians curious too. Tattoos weren't totally unknown, but making them was a long, painful process with thorns or even fishbones. They were still impractical, the only totally unfeathered places being the face, neck, stomach, butt, palms and the bottom of the feet.

He was pretty sure Ed was hoping that the feathers would disappear and they wouldn't be ruined.

"We'll get you some pants too," Edward said.

"Brightwings wants to come," Altaïr said.

"Your girl?" Altaïr nodded, Edward frowned a little, "No offense Altaïr. But the girl's feral. I don't know how much she'd like it back home."

"She won't leave me," Altaïr told him.

"And would you come with us if I made her stay? For her own good?"

"Don't make me choose," Altaïr told Edward angrily.

Edward sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, "She can come."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet, this could all turn out terrible."

Brightwings scowled at Softsong, "Don't any if your names not have a sound that is hard to say?" she demanded. But because Brighteyes had said she needed to learn she tested it out, "Edwaalrd," she did not like that duh sound at all.

Despite himself, Desmond smiled a little. "Rauf." He pointed at him. "Swiftflight Rauf." And Yusuf was softer on the tongue as well, but he'd save those until he had faces and wings to show her. "Windcatcher listens, will hear." He would at least understand what Adha meant with whichever name she ended up using for him.

"Rauf," that name was easy at least. "Rauf no listens?"

"Did I hear someone say we were going home?" Rauf asked. He was so ready to go home, he hated it here. He'd expected Altaïr to have gone feral by himself to survive. Never had he expected that Altaïr would find a feral flock. He hated the way they looked at him and he just wanted to go back home to Yusuf.

Desmond shook his head. It wasn't easy to say that he used to be the only one who understood or even spoke the language. He'd realized that he even spoke it differently than Altair or Adha.

He brought her over to Altair, Ed and Rauf. Adha's hand was absolutely tiny in his.

Edward looked at Altaïr, "You ready?"

"I have to... Mmmmm make new leader. Not me," it was easier to explain through that language over English.

"You do that then. Then we'll get the hell out of here," Edward said, "Brightwings is coming?"

Altair looked at her, "Come?" he asked her.

"Follow, always," she said gently.

"She is," he told Edward.

"Alright. Do what you have to do. We got half the day at least to get some distance from here, get back home. Let's not waste time," Altaïr nodded in agreement to what Edward said and left them and called out to his flock. He had something important to tell them.


	18. Clean Shave

Getting up into the air was much less of a struggle than it had been back at the compound. It wasn't that Desmond had really been doing a lot of flying, because the only place he could was from the top of the ruins. The trees were too thick for his wings. He'd watched Rauf launch himself off, and Ed dove out into the gust of wind. A lot of hot air rose from the jungle, and it was easy for him to climb on those updrafts.

Desmond spread his wings and jumped, pumping hard to catch the air. The extra feathers, the ones on his arms and legs felt the wind better than the feathers on his wings, and he had picked the exact moment to jump off. The air was a little slower here, it didn't tug on his wings like the wind back home.

He hung back, and flew mostly with Altair and Adha, but had markedly less trouble with it this time. He also had a sense of where they were going, and didn't want to stop even when Ed did. Desmond could feel the change in the wind, and he was excited. He wanted to fly with Altair even more, and he wanted to show Adha the archive, show her the flock, his flock.

They were greeted by pretty much the entire flock by the time they got there. Yusuf had been watching the skies for Rauf, upset that they never sent a communique for the week and a bit they were gone. There was a response from the artifacts that coincided with Desmond touching the Staff, but that aside, no one knew how to decipher that, and were busy snagging information and technology that belonged more or less, to the flock, from Bill and the rest of the humans who couldn't respect that they wanted to break from the Order.

Rauf was never more happy to see home in his entire life. As soon as he landed he went straight to Yusuf and wrapped his arms around him. Yusuf smelled like the flock and home and even after a week also still like Rauf. He pressed his face against Yusuf's chest before tugging him down to his height and kissing him firmly.

"Someone get these two some pants, please," Edward more or less commanded once he'd landed. Altair and Adha hung back, Altair more so Adha wasn't so uncomfortable around all these people. "Or skirts, something. I'm so tired of seeing Altair's dick-

"Hey," Altair snapped.

Edward turned and looked at him, "I only like seeing my own," Edward said, Altair rolled his eyes. "Also, this is Adha, Altair's girlfriend."

"You were gone three months Altair, how did you get a girlfriend?" Haytham asked.

Altair blinked, "Animal magnetism."

Desmond pointed out Yusuf, who had his arms and wings both wrapped around Rauf, babbling at him in Turkish and English in roughly equal amounts. "Yusuf. Rauf pair." It was obvious, but the word was perfect for them.

He introduced Haytham, and Connor along with his avian name. It still made him laugh. Ezio showed up, but stayed back, taking the hint from Malik, who was pretty keen on Altair's and the wild avian's unease. He really could have done with a hug, at least. His one dark wing opened up, and then closed behind him again.

"Malik. And Ezio."

"No really, someone go get them pants. Ezio," Edward pointed right at Ezio, "go." Ezio frowned and sulking a little slinked off to get them.

"Yusuf," Adha said softly, she had Altair and Rauf down, Desmond was difficult and Edward was a bit annoying. Altair squeezed her hand when she said Yusuf right, "Malik. Eseeo," she ended on a little trill and Altair laughed a little.

"Ezio," Altair said.

"Essseo," she said, louder this time.

"Et-zi-o."

Desmond smiled.

He moved over to Connor, who was peeking over at Adha and her obvious nakedness. The only ones here who had ever seen an avian woman were the four of them, really. He was pretty captivated, even though a good part of it was the feathers on her skin and chest. It almost looked like her chest was nestled with fluff.

Desmond brought him over. "Birdtalker, spoke once, young." Connor was quiet, and nodded, eyes averted a bit. He wasn't sure what Desmond said other than his name, and that it wasn't the mean way.

Honestly, it was to embarrass Connor. Desmond nudged him. "Don't stare, it doesn't mean the same thing, but it's not exactly a good thing either."

Connor practically squawked and punched Desmond. The two of them were tumbling into a fight without much more than that, kicking up dust and feathers.

"Boys!" Edward yelled as Ezio came back. "Stop that. Christ this isn't the damn wild or training. Good, Ezio, lets try and see if Adha can wear clothes without freaking out," since introducing her to cooked food had been a challenge in itself.

Ezio handed off the clothes to Altair. He'd miraculously found a pair of shorts, and hoped no one asked about the panties.

Desmond had one hand in Connor's ponytail, and Connor had his fisted in the messy mop on top of his own head. Connor shoved him off, annoyed with Desmond's claws even though it looked like Desmond ended up scratching himself up more than he scratched up his friend. "We're just... You know it's just..." Desmond gave up trying to explain and shook out his wings. They'd fought a lot, play fighting really, and it was kind of a regular thing.

They shuffled apart without a second order though, both looking somewhat sheepish.

Malik's wing came out of nowhere and connected harshly with the back of Desmond's head. "That thing on your head is the messiest, tangled mat of hair I've ever had the displeasure of seeing."

Desmond flinched, holding his head. "Oww, you know it's not like I packed a razor! And Alty's hair is just as bad." And Adha's... wasn't particularly bad, but it was long, and what wasn't braided was tangled, more like dreadlocks. But it was definitely messy, and not just from flying.

"Before you put those on, Altair... I suggest you guys clean up a bit?" Ezio motioned to his face, over his own groomed beard in reference to Altair's shoddy facial hair. Honestly, it looked like his hair couldn't decide where to grow, and came in patches. Out of all of them, Desmond looked the most ragged, though Rauf's beard seemed to grow a mind of its own and Edward was beginning to sport one that was equally gray as light brown. "Not to be rude but you look like shit."

"I haven't worn pants in two months, shut up," Altair said and very pointedly pulled them on. "Brightwings, put those on. Legs go through holes."

"Why?"

"How dryskins are. Birdbrain stare because naked isn't them. See, leg cover," he pointed at the pants everyone else was wearing.

"Oh. But doesn't feel?"

"Feel different," he said and rubbed his wings against her shimmering ones. He talked her through putting them on.

"Different. No like," Brightwings frowned deeply and tugged at the underwear, though didn't remove it.

"Now that everyone looks slightly better than they just came out of the woods, shall we go inside?" Edward asked, "It's so damn hot out. I would like the air conditioner," he groaned.

"Father, you're a giant child."

"Shut up boy I just flew a few thousand miles both ways in less than two weeks. I'm allowed to complain all I damn want," Edward smacked Haytham on the chest with his wing. Not terribly hard, but enough to make an impact.

Yusuf had busied himself with preening Rauf, murmuring things to him every so often. He was pretty enamored with the small gray feathers that had appeared on his skin. "You could do with a wash and a trim," he said with a smile. After the initial frantic kiss, it had gone pretty quickly back to normal, outrageously sweet lovebirds, the both of them.

Desmond made his way back to Altair. "Do uh... do you want to be alone with her?" He asked, wings fidgeting. "For showering and stuff..." It wasn't like there was room for three, especially not with wings like the two of them had. And it had been a little bit of a squeeze when Desmond's wings were small and the both of them were in the shower. Only the three of them and Malik were still outside, with Malik standing by the door waiting for them.

"Desmond, Altair, and Adha, if I heard? Welcome home, and come in. Or Yusuf will use all of the water cleaning Rauf up." His expression softened just slightly. "Welcome home, Altair," Malik said again, in Arabic, "You haven't forgotten this, too have you?"

Altair blinked at him, "I know you're talking Arabic, but not the words," Altair said and took Adha's hand. "Happy be home," he told Malik and knew some of it was wrong but he was just so tired of figuring out all the words and always having to get everything right. He just wanted to go inside and get clean and then sleep on a bed again. He didn't know if he'd be able to after sleeping outside for so long but he'd try at least.

"Cold," Adha said in surprise when Altaïr pulled her into the building. She was so surprised her wings flared open a moment.

"Yes. Things different. All different," he said gently. "New things. All new."

"Want see" she said, her feathers fluffed up a bit to help keep her warm in the suddenly chill environment.

"Good," Malik gave him a vague smile and left them to head back to his duties. There was a lot to do to make their transfer from the Order smooth. As curious as he was about Adha, he had work to do.

Desmond fell into step after Altair. He avoided Adha's wings, own feathers rising. On the other hand, he welcomed the chill, almost groaning. In front of Altair's door, he pressed himself against his back, practically burrowing into the feathers between his wings.

His hands came up and pressed against Altair's wings, a long, low whine in his throat.

When Altaïr opened the door Adha was totally fascinated by it. "Thin into not," she said and stepped into Altaïr's room to wiggle the door back and forth with interest.

"Door," Altaïr said, "Room bridge."

"Door," she said, fascinated.

Seeing Adha wasn't going to go anywhere for the moment Altaïr turned his attention to Desmond who clearly wanted it. "Shower doesn't fit three," he told Desmond, putting his hands on Desmond's shoulders. "Less you want to see what Adha is like first time?" he was honestly not looking forward to it. He'd missed running water so much and he just wanted to get all wet, even let the water soak through to his wings and then lay in the dry heat and bake in the sun outside so they all dried out.

"I needed you a lot when you weren't here," he said quietly, "Don't go alone again." Desmond pulled away from his hands reluctantly and went to his own room. Connor helped him cut his hair, and yes, he was sure he didn't want a mohawk, thank you.

He showered enjoying the cold water for a bit. When he shook out his wings, water got everywhere. Rather than shave completely, Desmond trimmed it down to an even stubble. He rubbed his face, appraising himself in the mirror, and feeling funny with claws like that next to groomed facial hair. A part of him didn't want to get rid of all of it. He was growing up, and it wasn't as patchy as it used to be.

Desmond sighed and sat down to press water out of the feathers on his body before finding something clean to wear. It certainly felt good to be showered.

Once Desmond was gone Altaïr closed the door. Brightwings was watching him. "He's important to you?" she asked him.

"Yes."

"Have you mated with him?"

Altaïr winced a little, not that it was bad of course, rather it was more weird he hadn't bad touches other members of the flock than Adha. "Yes," he said.

She smiled a little, "No wonder he so attached. You know how."

"Yes I do," Altaïr agreed, moving over to her. Wild avians literally fucked like animals, they had no finesse. Altaïr might have gone feral but he still knew how to fuck and not just mindless rutting. "Come, tame sky water," it was as close as he could get to shower. He pulled her into the bathroom and kept her away from the... Well... Everything, and pulled her into the shower with him.

It took him a minute or so to remember how to really make it work. Adha cried out when the water started, surprised. She quickly was interested in it and stood under it. Altaïr had to help her not drown just once before she got how to do it. Her wings went everywhere all did she and Altaïr just tries to not get whipped by her wings. Edward had told him about what was going in back home and he hopped wherever they were going had better and bigger showers.

Soap was an entirely different adventure and Altaïr made sure Adha didn't eat the soap or the shampoo. He was happy when she stopped moving as Altaïr cleaned her scalp, washing her hair. She'd have to get a bit of a haircut because her hair was just really one big knot

Eventually they did get out of the shower, though it took a while and Altaïr wrapped Adha in a towel. She liked it, being wrapped in something so fuzzy and different. He kissed her, glad she was accepting all this new and strange things in stride. He'd been afraid she herself would be afraid of all the new things.

He let Adha inspect his room again and picked up a razor. He knew he knew how to do this though it felt like the first time again. Shakily he shaved the patches off his face as best he could. He cursed when he cut himself twice but he did it without incurring too much injury. There was a buzz cutter near the sink. Altaïr figured out how to turn it in and with a bit more fiddling he got it to do what he needed and shaved off all his hair.

Desmond let himself into Altair's room. He went right past Adha and crawled onto Altair's bed, face sinking into the pillows. They'd been one of the more accessible things that smelled like Altair, and he still liked them. With his wings out, he practically commandeered the bed, wings definitely large enough for the job. Spread out like that, not even fully, his feathers still hung off the edges and hit the floor.

While Brighteyes was in the little room Brightwings went over to Softsong and sat next to him. "Softsong," she said, though knew his name was Desmond. She thought Softsong sounded more beautiful. "We share Brighteyes, Altaïr?" she asked.

His wings twitched, and he grunted. Desmond lifted his head to look at her, silent for a few moments. "Have to," he finally said, a sad look flickering over his expression. There was no good word for love. Wild avians were a lot more polyamorous, and even when an alpha was usurped, his partners then belonged to the new alpha. Mated avians didn't usually follow their mates if they were kicked out of a flock, because it wasn't easy to survive without one. It was almost a death sentence unless you were a non-alpha male, a satellite male. Wild avians mated to survive, there wasn't time for a luxury called love.

"Care... deeply. Love him," Desmond said, wondering if she could feel what the word was. "For... a really long time," he admitted softly. His stomach felt all soft even just talking about it, and his feathers rose in embarrassment. Desmond dropped his head back into the pillows.

Brightwings laid down and wiggled under Desmond's wings so she could lay next to him. "Can tell," she said and pressed her fingers gently against Desmond's face. She couldn't understand everything he said but she understood. "Life mate, rare," more like mostly unheard of, ever. Even rarer still between men since it was just so much more convenient for all parties to just be a bit unattached. Usually with men the beta men fell for the alpha when it happened since the alpha was usually with everyone.

"And us," us being herself and Altaïr. She'd been with other men but they were nothing compared to him. Then she giggled, "Of course you'd want. Same."

Desmond frowned, face still buried in the pillows. He whined. When he'd gone to get Altaïr, he hadn't expected that he'd have to share him. To him, it was like she was the reason he disappeared, though it was probably exactly what helped him survive as he did. That didn't mean that he felt any less usurped.

He just wanted it back to how things had been. It had taken long enough to just get there, with every stupid mistake he'd made. Adha wasn't there for that. It was a lot less complicated between Adha and Altaïr, and he was jealous of that. Her potential to bear children notwithstanding. Desmond turned his head away from her, not quite softened by her amusement.

Brightwings frowned at Desmond. She didn't want him to be sad. There was morning wrong with sharing. She looked up when there was a knock in the door. What had made that noise?

"Altaïr," someone called through the door.

Brightwings squeaked when Altaïr came out of the little room, his wings soaked and the patchy hair in his face gone. She forgot what he looked like without patchy, rough, hair on his face. He had a towel around his waist and went to the door, opening it. It was Haytham, she remembered that.

"Settling in?" Haytham asked Altaïr. Altaïr moved his shoulders.

"Yeah," he nodded, he felt so tired still. Like just mentally tired.

"Edward has given you guys and Rauf the rest of the day to recoup from your flight," he said looking over Altaïr's shoulder at Desmond and Adha on his bed.

"Good," Altaïr said, he wanted a nap, or just lay down in a diff bed.

"Keep her in the avian wing. We don't want the humans getting all nervous that you have a naked, avian, woman in the compound."

"I'll keep her close," Altaïr promised.

"Okay, that's all. Get some rest kid," he put his hand on Altaïr's shoulder and he got deja vu. After a moment he remembered that Haytham used to do this to him when he was a kid and had imprinted on him.

"Thanks," and Haytham squeezed his shoulder before leaving, Altaïr closed the door, and tried to shake the cobwebs out of his head. "Stop taking up all my bed," he told Desmond and got on it, pushing Desmond's overly big wings aside to lay down between them. "/Play nice?/" he asked Adha.

"Good girl," she promised with a chirp and nuzzled him adoringly.

Desmond grumbled when Altaïr moved his wings. He sidled up against Altair's side, trilling quietly. He didn't seem to care that their bodies were warm and even warmer cuddled together.

He missed him, dammit, he was going to cuddle and hide his face against Altair's feathers.

Altaïr turned his head towards Desmond who was pressed up against him. He could just sort if feel, as a whole, how much Desmond didn't like that Adha was around. Adha herself of course didn't mind. Altaïr sort of rolled onto his side and wrapped his arm around Desmond's waist, tugging him close. He felt Adha preening his wings and helping to strip the water from them. He still wanted to go lay out in the sun and let them dry out.

Desmond looked at him, and reached out to rest his fingers against Altair's clean shaven jaw. "I was afraid to say it when I left... I didn't want to distract you." He propped himself up and leaned over, kissing his cheek.

"I wanted to say that I love you," he said quietly, head inclined a little. His fingers made it into Altair's hair, gentle with his claws. "I thought it might have been too early, I mean... you know, my baby feathers... imprinting." Desmond shook his head. "I had to bring you back because I loved you, not just because I wanted you."

He'd certainly grown up. Besides the fact that he was almost twenty now, and that his wings came in, he was maturing mentally. Desmond knew how he felt about Altair without a doubt. He closed his eyes and ducked to press his forehead against Altair's. "I missed you, Alty. So much."

Bill was going to be livid when he found out Altair was back.

Altaïr wrapped his arms around Desmond with a sigh and pressed his face into Desmond's neck. Just like before he'd left he felt a bit like a jerk. He had nothing emotional to offer Desmond really. He'd never been in a emotionally romantic relationship. Honestly the closest he'd gotten so far was Adha and that wasn't the same as what Desmond was giving him. It wasn't any less, but it was different and the way Altaïr liked it, not being burdened by attachment or declarations of love.

He felt like an asshole frankly because he wasn't fucking stupid, he sort of knew Desmond was in love with him. He honestly had been hoping it was just the imprinting. But fuck it wasn't and while Altaïr was an ass he wasn't an ass enough to push Desmond away either. Or maybe he was more of an asshole for that. It wasn't like he'd be leading Desmond on though. He could give Desmond whatever he wanted, but Altaïr was nearly thirty god damn years old and used to fucking whoever he wanted without strings. 'Love' was a hard thing to swallow, and a hard thing to give.

He held Desmond for a while, cuddling him really, before he pulled back and sat up. "My wings are still wet and outside is sun. Outside," he wanted to dry his wings out properly.

"Same," Adha trilled and when she flashed her wings out water droplets were flicked off.

"Going to come with us?" Altaïr asked Desmond.

Desmond nodded after a while. He'd go outside with them, though he was a little off put. The sex they had was pretty damn great, but he felt bad that it actually meant something to him. He felt bad for caring in a way that was almost human, and that it was clearly just him.

He'd liked being cuddled, and kind of feeling like he belonged to Altair was also nice... Desmond followed them, feeling like a stupid child even though he'd admitted his feelings without being too rough about it.

"Do you think you ever could? I mean, I just don't want to be sitting here hoping, you know." He knew he didn't want to get caught up in it if the answer was a slated no.

Once they were outside Altaïr laid down on the grass and stretched his wings out. Adha started to roll around on it happily, totally unconcerned with what was going on with them. Altaïr was sort of jealous, that she could be so careless about what was going on between Altaïr and Desmond.

Altaïr looked at Desmond and collected his thoughts and words since he knew he would need a lot of those. Or at least hard one. He was still tired so all his English came slow.

"I won't lie," he said, flexing a few of his feathers in the sun, "I don't know. I've never had to think about it," he was glad at least he could give Desmond the truth, and the kid could decide if he wanted that or not. "I don't... know how," he admitted. Love in a relationship had never been a thing he needed to worry about. It wasn't something he'd practiced or thought about. So really Altaïr didn't know how to love someone or give them the full emotional package they wanted.

Altaïr sighed and looked up at the blue sky, the sun was high overhead still. "I don't want you to be unhappy, kid," he looked at Desmond again, "Cause I do care about you. I dunno if that's enough for you but I just... I don't know," it wasn't exactly easy stuff. Desmond was still so young and Altaïr sort of didn't want him to be so hung up on him he couldn't go find someone else who'd give him exactly what he needed, when he needed it. Altaïr wasn't good at that shit. He was a selfish asshole most of the time! "I did miss you though, I know I did, even if I can't remember all of it. Before I went feral I did," he closed his eyes against the sun. That was really all he was fucking piss poor and shitty next to something like the devotion Desmond had for him, but that was all he had.

Desmond stayed standing and spread his wings, feathers opening and rustling apart. He trilled, the sound high and long. The sun felt great, warming the darker feathers when he turned his back.

"They're even bigger than yours," Desmond said, dropping the topic without much prying further. "You missed it... When I flew for the first time," he continued softly. "High... free, skytouched," Desmond couldn't sit with his wings spread, even then his feathers brushed the ground.

Altaïr grinned but kept his eyes closed. "Trust me: I wanted to see it. But I got to see you fly now. And they're only bigger than mine cause you're taller." Altaïr then opened his eyes and stood up. His wings were rather dry already since between taking so long to shower and then cuddling Desmond they were pretty dry.

"Let's see you do this though," Altaïr said and stretched his wings out. They'd grown several inches since he'd left since like the claws and auxiliary feathers his body had forced itself to change to survive. He flapped them a few fines to get still wet feathers to unstick and then he jumped and brought his arms and wings down in one motion and was flying. Powered lift. It had been impossible for him until he'd gone feral.

Adha saw him fly and in moments she was in the air with just a jump. Her shorter wings allowed her to fly like Rauf, nearly hovering. "High. Big sky," she trilled happily, literally flying circles around Altaïr.

Desmond had to take a few steps before launching after them. He hung a bit, which gave him enough time to give that second flap. It had been a leap of faith, he hadn't been able to do it before, the closest was the jump at the top of the ruins. Hard, powerful strokes carried him up with the wind.

He was tired, but he flew, and forced himself up.

"Damn," Altaïr said at the same time the door back inside opened.

"Altaïr, I said stay inside the avian wing!" Haytham yelled at them.

"I said stay inside the avian wing," Altaïr mimicked in a voice that clearly wasn't Haytham's but was supposed to be it. It was a lot more annoying. He rolled his eyes, "Fine," he called back down. Haytham didn't leave, clearly waiting for them to land. "Bugeater," he muttered and banked down, calling to Adha to land. She wasn't terribly happy about it but skipped to stop well before Altaïr and Desmond who needed to check their speed differently.

"Well he didn't before but Bill definitely knows you're home now," Haytham said irritably when they landed.

"I care why?" Altaïr asked, at least his wings were dry now.

Haytham just scowled at him, "Idiot. Get inside. All of you," he motioned inside irritably. Altaïr hooked his arm around Adha's shoulders and walked back into the avian wing. Man he forgot how much of a kill-joy Haytham was.

Desmond tried his best to kick sand up at Haytham when he landed. "Fuck my father. I thought we were going to leave?" He folded up his wings, head cocked to the side. "I really don't care if he knows Alty's back, and I really don't care if he's pissed that I went to find him. He has problems with me, he talks to me, he doesn't take it out on Altair sending him off on some crackbrained mission simply because he fucked his son.

However the hell Desmond found out it had been some kind of revenge issue was unclear. His eyes were sharper than they had been before he left. Of course, it wasn't the only change about him. The marks on his arm and the feathers were much more obvious than a simple look in his eyes. "He needs to get out of my shit," Desmond grumbled.

He was about to just push past Haytham, and stopped short. "There was an artifact there... Adha showed me. She... I don't know, she could hear it, like I did. She brought me to it and I touched it." Desmond lifted his arm, feathers rising a bit. "I don't know what it is, but the artifact stopped speaking after that, and it hurt like hell."

"You might not care but we do," Haytham told Desmond sternly. "We're trying to make this a clean break and your attitude isn't going to help. Now listen to your superiors and stay out of the way until we're ready to go."

"Aw, give him a break Haytham," Altaïr said.

"You too," Haytham snapped and his wings snapped out to make himself look big. Only because he was so clearly stressed out would he do something so base and instinct driven as show off his wings. Altaïr, thankfully, had more control and kept his back. Haytham's wings were laughably small. It was better if you didn't get on his bad side right now cause he seemed pissed. Like father like son son Altaïr supposed as Haytham was demonstrating the Kenway anger pretty well; contained but furious.

Haytham turned back to Desmond. "We'll have someone look at it later, Desmond. Right now we just want to get out of here."

Desmond paused. "Um... If Bill wants to talk to me don't make him wait... I'll see him if he asks for me." He went into the avian wing without fussing, but he didn't follow Altair back to his room. "I'm... going to sit by the archive," Desmond mumbled, and let his feet carry him there.

He felt... weird. He didn't feel any better confessing to Altair.

Haytham rubbed his eyes once they were all gone. "I'm too old for this. Damn kids."


	19. Awakening

Desmond split most of his time between the archive and Altair's room. When he wasn't preening himself, Altair or Adha, he was standing in front of the door, running his fingers over the lines radiating from the lock. The marks on his arm were similar, and were echoed on a few other pieces in the room. It was so frustrating, they kept telling him in hushed whispers that he was supposed to do something, but wouldn't explain anything when he asked, they fell to even more hushed whispers to the point where he couldn't make heads or tails of a word that was spoken. He sighed and walked back.

There was a meeting scheduled, he was supposed to see Bill, and he wasn't going to drag it out this time. It was the last thing he was obligated to do before the flock broke completely from the Order. He had a bad feeling about it, but Desmond went anyway, and expected to be greeted with hostility. He also thought that he'd be angrier with Bill, but he wasn't. He did hesitate for what felt like a lifetime by the door. Part of it was that he didn't want to wrestle his massive wings into the room.

"Desmond," when Bill spoke it was with kindness when his son carefully walked through the door like he expected Bill to jump on him and bite his head off. "I honestly didn't expect to see you before you left," Bill was standing behind his desk. He'd been surprised when Edward had told him Desmond agreed to see him before they left. Just a few short days after Altaïr had been returned home. He tried to tell himself he was glad Altaïr was back but it tasted bitter in his mouth. Miles did not forgive easily.

Desmond was quiet for a bit. "You asked to see me. I'm not going to run away from that. I know you sent him away, and I know why you did." He took a breath, wings close and angled slightly over his shoulders so they didn't drag on the floor.  
"I need you to know that it was my choice."

Bill frowned, stupid brat. Clearly he didn't know everything Bill had done for him growing up, to make him what he was, to even have anything. Bill knew Desmond saw him as a task master, a warden, when everything he'd done since Desmond was born was to put him in this place now. A bridge between the flock and them. Not just a parasitic relationship they currently had now. The rest of the flock had been raised, more it less, by Rashid and Edward. Raised to distrust humans, hate them even! With Desmond that could change. He'd given Desmond his wings and then his son had spit right in his eye.

"That's very mature of you," Bill said because finally his son wasn't running away or hiding like he always was. He didn't want to think about what Altaïr had done to his boy, multiple times if the bruises from almost four months ago were any indication. "But I haven't any idea what you're talking about. I sent Altaïr on a mission, was a shame he fell out of the sky; but at least he's back now hmm?"

Desmond scowled. "Don't play dumb. You sent him into a hell hole, and it was almost like there was a tip leaked." He crossed his arms. "Why am I here, Bill? You wanted to see me, but I know you don't want to talk about ruined plans."

Bill tapped his fingers on the table with a thoughtful frown. "I know you think I'm a horrible father, Desmond. That I somehow kept you from all the things you could have done growing up. That I was cruel to you. I might have been hard with you but really, how much did I deny you?" Really it wasn't much. Desmond had anything he wanted pretty much. Bill only sometimes restricted him going into the avian wing but he usually never said no he couldn't. The training was hard yes, and the tough love might not have been the best but you couldn't be weak in the flock or in the Assassins. "You think you would have had it different if I'd let you be with the other avians more. I can tell you, I've seen their training, how Haytham raised his boy. The birds are worse than us with rules and hierarchy and all the things you seem to hate me for. Yet because it's them it's fine."

Bill sighed heavily. "I did do a lot for you Desmond. More than you'll ever know. Unlike your mother I was glad you we're avian. Maybe now the humans could get a word in between Edward and Haytham who are both so caught up in what they are they can't see the big picture. I just wanted to prepare you for that, and so you could keep up with them, but still remember there is more out there than just the flock. Most of them don't remember that."

"I wonder about that. How am I avian? Why didn't you... treat me like this my whole life? It was only when the nictitating membrane didn't disappear. I don't know what you want me to do, what /is/ the big picture you keep talking about? What is it that I'm supposed to do?" He didn't really want to hate Bill, but he felt the calmness starting to fade.

He still sent Altair to what was intended to be his death because... what, he had sex with his son? And he was back now, but... different and he'd never be the same. Desmond blamed Bill for that. "You're glad I'm avian, you want me to be, but you also want me to be human too? I can't... I can't do that. I've always been avian, and it doesn't help that your people hate us."  
He gestured at the door, with his arm and with his wing. "Out there, wild ones are killed. Shot for no reason. They avoid humans because humans hunt them, hunt us! Humans hate us, and to survive we have to hate them back. Even in these halls, I can't sit at the cafeteria and eat without getting looks of disgust because I have a pair of fucking wings, or I'm eating four or five times what they eat." Desmond had backpedaled a little bit, somewhat swayed. "I just... wanted mom to look at me. That's why I showed her the door first. That's when you caught me coming out of there."

Bill frowned at his son and barely recognized him as it. Maybe he didn't have a son anymore. Maybe the flock had taken him away from him. "I know," Bill said, "but that's what I was hoping for you to help change. We're only human Desmond and you know humans are afraid of things we don't understand. We don't understand you because the flock is so cloistered away from the rest of the compound.

"You're so young Desmond," Bill said softly, "there's so much you don't know and I couldn't even begin to tell you if you leave. Because Ed won't tell you."

"Of course there's a lot that I don't know, you never really were all that forthcoming either." Desmond was a lot less aggressive though, and was warier as he went on. "Tell me what it is. What is this thing you're not telling me?" His wings had closed up again, folded as much as they could against his back.

"Tell me why I'm here right now. It's not to try and break me from the flock, is it? Because you aren't exactly doing a good job of that."

Bill sighed a little, "I did what I could," he told himself quietly, in a whisper. "Before all this shit happened, before most of history really remembers, Desmond, avians worked with humans, to help them. And while I know it sounds ridiculous once upon a time humans weren't the apex species we are now. We were once slaves to a much more advanced race. Avians helped us though, helped free us. I am well aware that avians are considered second class life forms by most of the world. I wanted to change that though, so they could help us again. You told me you could hear the artifacts speaking to you and that's the first step to what I want to accomplish."

Desmond gave Bill a quizzical look, brows drawn. It sounded pretty close to some of the whispers from the artifacts, but he never really thought too hard about it. "Okay so step one was me hearing them and beginning to understand them. Now what."

The more he turned it over in his head, the less it lined up. Desmond didn't have the patience to argue with his father, and kept it to himself.

Bill thought about what to do but he saw only one way. He was running out of options and he wasn't going to get anywhere with Desmond, and he didn't have more time to get him ready. The flock was leaving. "If I had more time," he said, but there was none. Once Desmond was done here the flock would be leaving. He sighed heavily and looked down at his desk.

After a moment he rapped his knuckles on the wood, "I can show you," he told Desmond.

"Fine, show me." Desmond crossed his arms, and the feathers that remained over the scars lifted somewhat. He watched his father with a rather flat stare, expression reined in under control again.

"Follow me then," Bill said, trying not to sound totally defeated. He walked around his desk to the door. At least Desmond followed him when he left. He walked down the hall to the basement which was normally off limits to everyone, mainly because it was just storage and it just helped keep things organized.

Then he got into a service elevator and held it open for Desmond who had to duck a bit to get in. William pressed a large button to go down. The elevator groaned before starting to descend. "We built the compound here for a reason," William said as they went down, "because it sat over old ruins. Ruins like the ones avians tend to gravitate to, only because they're underground are far more intact. They're the best looking ones we've seen, pretty much, ever," he told Desmond though didn't know how much it meant to him.

Desmond tucked his head a little, wings pressed almost uncomfortably close to fit in the elevator. He could feel the ruins as they descended, and they weren't just intact, they were sprawling. Huge. And all too familiar. They had hardly reached the end of the lift, and he could have sworn he'd been here, only... they hadn't been buried.

"It's not supposed to be underground... Why is it down here?" He asked, stepping out before Bill probably would have been comfortable letting him. Desmond's eyes were bright with his second sight, seeing well in the low light while the marks on his arm took on the pulsing glow that followed his heartbeat.

"We don't know," Bill said, following Desmond, "We found them like this. It's amazing they're so well maintained too, since most ruins are worn out by centuries of weather. We found the first artifact here, before I was born. Archaeologists were inspecting the site, for answers on what happened to those who came before. They found Rashid down here, of all things, along with the Apple that now sits in the archive. He was the only one though, there were no other avians, and we have no idea how he got here either," Bill frowned at that.

His silence lasted a few moments. "Rashid..." Desmond repeated slowly, feeling like Altair probably had when they found him in the jungle, trying to remember a past that he just couldn't. They'd built the Farm on top of all of this, no wonder the artifacts were always longing. They were longing for this.

Desmond looked down the long, dark halls, and felt a bit of the sad, loneliness that he always had in the archive. "I know what you want me to do." He looked back at Bill. "I won't do it." Even though he wanted to. "I'm not bringing them back for you. What do you think they'll do? Help you do what?" His eyes narrowed a bit.

"what do you think I hope they'll do?" Bill asked irritably. "We're at war Desmond. I know you don't see much of it because we've tried to keep you and the other children out of it until you're old enough, but this isn't a war we're winning. Every year more of us are lost to the templars. if the tempers win it'll be like it was before the avians helped us. Humanity will be slaves to itself and I can assure you the templars won't be so kind to your species. They hate your kind most of all and will burn the avian race out of existence. If you don't want to help humans fine, you can be that selfish, but you care about your own species don't you?"

"I know you think I'm an asshole, but all I want is to win so we don't have to fight anymore. some of the ancients are sympathetic to us. Wake them up so they can help us."

"... If that's what you think they'll do." Desmond didn't need Bill to lead him through the winding corridors, and began walking. "If they don't, you have no place getting angry with me." Though Bill's temper would probably lead to him being the target of the brunt of his irritation, regardless of whether or not he did what Bill wanted him to. Damned if he did, damned if he didn't, even though he wasn't entirely sure of what would happen if he woke the ancients.

The closer Desmond felt like he was getting, the more he was beginning to understand, and he kept asking Bill if he was sure this was what he wanted. Never once did he really explain why he asked, or look back at him for more than a few moments even though he was sure that his face would be nearly impossible for his weaker, human eyes to see in the dark other than the glow in his eyes.

"What if they don't help?" Desmond asked, coming upon a largely open room. It was circular, and a convergence of many other hallways. He looked around it, up at the domed ceiling, the pedestal in the center. It was strange to remember a place he'd never been. Desmond remembered it with an oculus in the center of the dome, open to the sky. There were channels and grooves in the floor, radiating from the center in a series of shallow pools, long since dry and empty of water. Beneath the dirt, he knew it was a pristine white surface that wasn't stone, or anything really known to man, at least.

"I mean, what if they don't like humans at all?"

Bill frowned, though he had thought about that. "Rashid told me," he said. "And he said that if they didn't then like before the avians would help us since they were just as enslaved as us. It's why we gathered the flock, protected it from the outside world and itself. So if the worst case scenario happened we wouldn't be alone."

He couldn't really believe that he actually gave a laugh instead of just grinning in the dark. "I wish you told me more about Rashid," Desmond said, moving to the pedestal. There was a depression in its surface, interrupted only by curved lines and half circles. "I could have learned to be a better liar, if you actually believed him." It all suddenly made sense.

Desmond knew exactly what this would do, he remembered, with the whispers of the past in his ears. He was spelling the beginning of the end for many humans, and he was doing so knowing full well what he was doing. "Don't forget, Dad. You wanted me to do this." His wry smile was nearly audible, and he pushed his palm against the indent at the center of the pedestal. He wasn't going to let his father take this away from him.

The marks on his arms glowed, and he felt pain as the light traveled from his fingers to the grooves in the pedestal, and out onto the floor. Desmond pressed his hand even further, wings spreading as the words of a song he barely remembered leapt to his lips. He was calling them back, their masters, the ancients. Those who came before. He was remembering, and it was making him cry over the pedestal, though his voice and the ancient words were unhindered.  
The house lights went up, so Bill could see. The central area began to glow and hum to the same song pouring from Desmond's mouth.

Them it appeared, an ethereal figure made of bands of light. They looked like they were sleeping. The podium released Desmond and they woke. They made a sound like they were tired and then came into focus.

The hologram looked at Desmond and then at Bill and frowned. "Little one, what happened to you?" they asked and stepped down from the podium. Standing they were nearly the same height as Desmond. They looked like a woman and wore a white dress that trailed on the floor and a sort of crown that covered her head and hair. "What's this pest doing here?" she asked Desmond, clearly expecting the truth.

Desmond stopped singing, and sank to his knees, wings spread out around him. It was only a type of hologram, but he looked at her like he knew her. He wasn't surprised that the speech was in English - the pedestal had shared in his memories to some extent, as he shared in the memories within it.

"He was my father. He asked I bring you back." Desmond closed his eyes. "He was led to believe you were sympathetic to humans." He responded in English, wanting Bill to know every mistake he'd made.

She turned and looked at Bill like he was shit on her shoe. "We are here to help," she said, "Help you monkeys remember your place in this world that clearly you've ruined if our precious angels look like /this/," while she didn't sound disgusted by the way Desmond looked she clearly was not happy about it.

There was a vaguely upset air about how Desmond held his wings, slowly closing halfway. He cooed quietly, more than content to sit there by the projection's feet, apologizing in the old, song-like language. "When will you be back?" He asked softly, not even bothering to look back at Bill, see what he thought about all of this.

The hologram put her fake fingers under Desmond's chin, "Soon little one. And we'll fix what these humans have broken. This poor world has seen enough chaos because of these creatures," and she turned fierce eyes on Bill who looked like he'd just hit over the head with an avian's wings repeatedly.

Desmond smiled. "We will wait," he replied quietly, rising to his feet as he felt the hologram begin to dissipate. As much as he didn't want it to, he knew that it meant that they would be back. They would all return.

He folded his wings up and straightened, shoulders rolling back even as he gave a soft, sad trill that was nearly a whine. It wasn't until her figure fully disappeared that Desmond looked back at Bill. The lights dimmed around them but did not turn off completely, alluding to the life that was returning to the ruins.

Bill stared at his son a moment, the entire implications of what had just happened sinking in. But that... wasn't how it was supposed to go. Perhaps worse than that was how smug Desmond looked. He knew and had just let Bill walk right into it. He'd just let Bill do something so stupid and damning to the entire planet without even blinking. Bill felt heat rise up his throat and he realized he really didn't have a son, This thing in front of him wasn't his son and now he saw what his wife always saw when she looked at Desmond. He saw an alien that had come from part of his body.

Bill didn't know he could be so angry. But he did know it felt really good when he punched Desmond so hard in the face the avian went down and didn't get back up. Bill shook out his hand because he'd just knocked the avian out. "Fucking bird," he grumbled and thought about leaving him down there, locked up to die but he couldn't. Instead he hoisted Desmond over his shoulders. He couldn't let this be the end though. If he'd done this with Desmond's help well damnit he was going to fix it, and make Desmond fix it.


	20. The Flood

He was out and he was out damn cold. Desmond was dimly aware of the fact that there was blood in his mouth, and his face hurt like a bitch. He was also aware that he'd lost time. The amount that he'd lost was fuzzy, but he sobered up pretty quickly when he realized he wasn't in the ruins or the avian quarters.

Assessing his situation came slowly, but the first thought he had was pretty much just how in the hell had Bill carried him back up with his wings flopping around. Desmond figured out pretty quickly that his hands and his wings were tied, and his wings much more uncomfortably so. The most he could do was spread his primaries.

Sitting up was a hassle, his wings hit against some kind of desk, and were forced into an even more awkward position. Desmond could feel his feathers bending in directions they weren't supposed to, and tried to get to his knees to lessen it. "Dad?"

Desmond spat blood out on the floor, just barely missing his own leg, and tried again, "Bill? What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Seemed like his nose wasn't bleeding, but he could feel dry tracks, and smell blood.

Bill was sitting in a chair in front of Desmond, "What am I doing?" he asked, he was quiet, contemplative. "I was trying to make the world better," he said softly. "Though since I can't do that I guess I'll just have to fix my mistake," and from a table above Desmond's line of vision Bill pulled a pair of clippers. They were hedge clippers, the small kind you could use with one hand, the clipper parts curved like a hornbill's beak. "I am not your father. You are not my son. You're a mistake I shouldn't have fostered," he stood up, taking the clippers with him.

Desmond's gaze tracked the shears. He struggled against the ties on his wrists. Zip ties? Yeah, the plastic was definitely cutting into his skin, and his wings were in the way, he couldn't snap it. There was a growl in his throat, an actual snarling kind of growl.

"You made it worse. People like you." He couldn't back himself up, wings in his way once again. "But you're right, I'm not, I never was. But I'm the closest you'll ever get to having one."

"I made you what you are you ungrateful shit," Bill snapped. "Without me you'd just be a human, like me, like your mother. Or even if you did somehow express your avian side you'd have wings smaller than Haytham's. Your mother's grandfather was barely an avian. You shouldn't be at all. If I had just let you grow up without treatments you would have been just like us. Instead I tried to do you right and I got..." he swallowed, but didn't continue. He'd tried to love his boy, but he didn't always know how. It was hard loving a son who you knew one day wouldn't be like you, would be so far away from you just because of your species differences.

"I made a mistake letting your avian side express itself, Desmond," he said softly. "But maybe I can still fix what I did," and he eased up on the pressure of the clippers so they opened. "Really all I wanted was a son," he said to himself but he was close enough that Desmond could hear. He'd tied Desmond's wings to parts of the desk so they were open and Bill put the clippers on Desmond's primaries, probably further up than he should have, and pressed his hand closed. The clippers sheared through the thick quills with a sharp snap.

Desmond did not want to give him the satisfaction of hearing his pain. "I'd only look like you." His voice was hard, and he kept trying to move away even though he couldn't. His struggles doubled when he felt the shears against his feathers.

"I don't know what you think you did, I have always been -" He was cut off by a screech of pain. Three good chunks of his feathers fell, a good third of the way up. Bill had nipped them deep in the quick, cutting right through the nerve and into the blood vessel. Desmond stilled when he felt the blood running down his other feathers. It was strange, he had this image in his head like he was being crucified, wings spread out. Instead of nails into the meat of them, feathers were being clipped, and it was more than enough to ground him.

He couldn't fly like that and on top of that he wasn't a fraction of what he was supposed to be. He wasn't even a shadow, it was disgraceful.

Altair's head jerked up like being tugged by invisible strings. He'd heard something but he didn't know what. All he knew was that whatever the sound was it made all his feathers stand straight up. So it wasn't a good sound.

"What?" Adha asked and ran her fingers through his hair, seeing how suddenly freaked out he was.

"I heard something," Altair said. He'd gotten all his things together that he'd wanted and now everyone was just waiting for Desmond to show back up. He'd gone to visit his father one last time but that had been over an hour ago. Everyone was loitering around their rooms, waiting as patiently as they could. They'd scrounged up a car for the avians who couldn't fly like Malik and Haytham, and the heavy stuff had been put in it.

"No you didn't. Just the air rumble," meaning the air conditioner.

"No, it was something," Altair said and pushed her off of him. About forty minutes ago both he and Adha had felt a shift. What it was they didn't know, but something was weird now, different. The others hadn't felt it. Just them. "I'm going to go check on him."

"Worry about nothing," Adha said.

"Be back," he promised, she pouted but he ignored her. He twitched because he heard it again. Sort of. It was less of a sound and more of an impression of a sound against his ear drums. It made him anxious and propelled him forward.

He left the avian wing, which he wasn't supposed to do, but fuck it, and headed towards Bill's office. As he got closer he kept hearing it and nowactually hearing it and not just the impression of it. It was coming from behind Bill's door, and it sounded like Desmond and he could smell blood. Not human blood either. Avian blood. Bill was doing something to Desmond.

Altair didn't even think. He threw himself at the door. It held but now he could hear other people coming towards him, drawn by the commotion. He threw himself at it again, shoving off from the other side of the hall wall. The door thudded open and Altair flipped so he landed, not on his feet, but on his hands and knees. Then he looked up and saw what was going on and saw Bill with fucking hedge clippers cutting away Desmond's feathers. There were bloody feathers on the floor in front of him. His eyes widened.

He'd stopped crying out, but still flinched each time a feather was cut. Apparently Bill figured out it hurt more when they were cut one by one, even the golden ones. His head snapped up and he tried to get away again, managing to briefly upset the desk. Desmond had already displaced it by a little over a foot just from jerking against it.

There was a wordless warbling cry, and Desmond tried to pull himself toward Altair. It seemed to have unstopped the dam, and he was making all kinds of sounds, mixed up with partial words in both English and avian.

Altair took one look at what was going on and all his feather puffed up and he hissed. He actually hissed, like a pissed off eagle and with a screech launched himself at Bill. He landed on the older man and using his fists and his wings started to pummel him. Every ounce of training he'd ever had left him in that moment. All he knew was that Bill was hurting his Desmond and cutting his wings.

Bill did try to fight back, smacking at Altair and trying to use the garden clipped but Altair just broke his wrist, making him scream. He clawed at Bill's face and neck and just kept shrieking, furious that some human would dare hurt one of them. His own son no less!

Altair didn't stop until well after Bill had stopped moving and it was only then that he sat back, panting, his hands, arms, chest and wings were splattered with blood. He looked down at what he'd down. He'd literally clawed Bill's face off and he could see some bone through the carnage, and he'd left huge, deep, furrows in Bill's chest. He looked behind him and saw some people looking in, looking horrified. He raised his wings in challenge and they quickly backed out.

He crawled off of what remained of Bill and went over to Desmond. He didn't remember English right now, his mind was clouded with blood lust. "Safe," Altair said and cradled Desmond's head in his hands, "Safe now," and he had enough civilized thought to grab the clippers and cut the zip ties holding Desmond in place.

Desmond cooed, wings shaking as he pulled them against himself. He practically tucked himself against Altair's bloody chest. "Altyyy..." He was just short of trying to burrow into the feathers that remained on his skin.

That was also about when he stopped trying not to cry, not that he was particularly successful before, considering the fact that those were nerves Bill was cutting. Desmond really only ended up babbling after that, up until he remembered how to block the pain. It still hurt, and his wings, down to the feathers continued to quiver, but he could think a little better. "Home, take home, Alty. Take home," He begged.

Desmond didn't need to tell Altair twice. Altaïr scooped Desmond up like he was a child. "Home," Altair promised and walked out of the office. The people in the hall jumped back when he walked out and Altair glared at them and hissed.

Altaïr made his way quickly back to the avian wing. "Brightwings," he called and Adha poked her head out of his room, "Get Windcatcher," he ordered and she nodded, her face pale. She darted from the room as Altair went in. He laid Desmond down on the bed gently and pressed his forehead to Desmond's. "Snake is dead," he told Desmond softly.

He shifted himself onto his side so he could tuck the injured wing close. He had two primaries left at the tip, and it looked like Bill had just worked his way toward Desmond's back from there. There was roughly two thirds left of primary feathers three to nine, and a handful of his secondaries were messily halved in length. Though the quills had already clotted, the wing still shook.

Altair simply just being there calmed him, but he still gripped his arm tightly. "He asked me to do it." Desmond's fingers twitched. "I did it. Woke them. Ancient sleep, sleep no longer." It was the second thing that actually made a lick of sense, even without context.

The door opened, "Altaïr what is the meaning of this? Adha just came into- Desmond?" Edward sounded confused. "What the hell happened?" He demanded.

"Bill," Altaïr croaked, "Snake," he hissed.

"Bill. He-" Desmond looked up at Ed, trying to figure out where to start. He heaved a sigh and pushed himself up. "There's... a huge, largely intact site under the complex. It's... home."

"He took me down there, told me to wake them up. The ancients, you know, the ones that made all of the artifacts. I kept remembering all of these... things." His brow furrowed, and he shook his head. "He thought they'd help them with the fight between them and the Templars. I knew he was wrong about that, I was angry. I woke them, they're coming back, we... can go back."

Edward frowned, "Kid, whatever the hell happened it clearly fucked with your head. The ancients are gone. We're alone," he told Desmond because there was no need for the kid to get his hopes up. Rashid had told him similar things while he was growing up under the other buzzard. That they were there, waiting for them. Edward knew it was just a pipe dream. "Altaïr, can he be moved?"

Altaïr looked at Edward, then at Desmond. "Think so," he said.

"Good. Because we really can't stay here now. Don't let the others see him and take him out to the car. If they know Bill did this..." he didn't want to or have to finish. The flock would go ballistic if they knew what Bill had done.

"No! No, we can't! She..." Desmond squirmed. "I saw her... She knew me." He pushed at Altair, not wanting to move, or ultimately leave.

He moved away from Altair, ending up pretty close to the edge of his bed. "She spoke to us, it's how Bill found out he was wrong, she told him what they were, pests. Parasites. It made him angry."

"I don't care," Edward said, "Whatever you saw was a phantom Desmond. Rashid showed me those ruins. There is nothing there but a whisper of what was. They're all dead. Altair, get him," and then Edward left.

"Desmond," Altair said, "Please don't be difficult. Let's just get away from here. Please," and he grabbed both of Desmond's hands with his bloody ones.

Desmond jerked his hands away from Altair, snarling. "I felt her. I felt her. They aren't dead, and we don't die either, not like humans think death is. I remember it." He'd ended up nearly back against the wall. "I remember everything. Or... most of everything."

Being doubted didn't make him feel any more positive of what he remembered, though, and it was clear.

"I believe you," Altair said though he wasn't sure he did. He just wanted Desmond to calm down. "But we can't stay here," he knelt in front if Desmond. "If they're alive, they'll find us," he reminded Desmond. "So can you walk or am I going to have to carry you?" because one way or another he was taking Desmond with them.

Desmond whimpered, torn. He couldn't explain it to them, the longing, the need and unwillingness to leave them behind again. "The artifacts... I need, we need to take them, we can't leave them."

Edward was right, though. Something had changed in him, just like Altair being unable to fully recover from going feral, something deep within him had changed. Remembering what could only be described of as thousands of incarnations could do that. It made Desmond lonely, and he simply couldn't explain all of that. He keened softly.

"We are," Altair said, "We wouldn't leave them here for the humans to misuse," he decided to just pick Desmond up since he still seemed reluctant to go. He knew Edward didn't care about what Desmond had seen. They needed to leave, especially after what Altair had just done.

"Brightwings, let's go," Altair said and Adha followed him when he left the room. The car was idling, Ziio was in it with Leo, Haytham, and Malik. Ziio was coming because she wouldn't just let her son and her baby daddy leave. Bill hadn't been happy about that either but that didn't matter now since Bill was dead.

"Don't ask, Desmond is riding with you," Altair said, Adha opening the door for him.

"I'm more concerned why your hands are covered in blood," Haytham said.

"Just taking out garbage," Altair said still looking at Desmond. "You'll be all right," he said in a soft, gentle, tone and kissed Desmond on the forehead.

He grabbed a hold of Altair, hooking his arm around his neck. Desmond kissed him, refusing to be let go until he had pressed his mouth good and well against Altair's. He kept himself from whining, not liking that he'd be without Altair. Only those who couldn't fly were in the van. No one he was really close to.

Malik passed a look at Altair, and then moved to give space for Desmond's wings. Either way, he was still all but stuffed into the back of the van, and he hated it. It was dark in the back, and small and closed. He ended up with his head in someone's lap, he didn't remember if it was Malik's or Ziio's or even Haytham's. Leonardo was probably the one behind the wheel, and the only one Desmond even labeled as human in his mind.

Ziio smelled and felt like an avian, and yes, it was her lap, he recognized that there was only one hand on his feathers - Malik's, and Haytham definitely would have shoved his head off.

Altaïr withdrew from the vehicle. Adha was standing with him, waiting. Then the rest if the slow came out of the avian wing. Rauf took to the sky instantly.

"We're leaving, now, everyone in the air," Edward ordered and he, Connor, Ezio and Yusuf started up the tower to get flight.

Altaïr just looked at Adha. "Follow," he said and jumped, bringing his wings down in an easy lift. Adha flapped and joined Altair and Rauf in the sky. Moments later the others were as well and they followed the car away from the compound.

* * *

END PART ONE


	21. Part Two: Me Worry

Bit of a cosmetic change to the story title and parts w/e same story. Same gay birds.

* * *

Part Two

Hypnic Jerk

* * *

Altair still couldn't believe Desmond was still sleeping. Usually he woke when he and Adha did and went with them to have breakfast. Today though the kid was fucking dead to the world and Adha had been concerned for a moment before reassuring herself Desmond was indeed still breathing. He poked his head into their room and was just glad the Guild had given them a large room with a large bed and adequately sized bathroom since all three of them lived there. Not that Altair could convince Desmond to take his own room even though he'd tried.

It was dark in the room, the shades drawn closed and he saw Desmond's form laid spread eagle on the top of the bed. His wings had mostly grown back in now but some of his primaries were still a bit short. Altair didn't know why he'd suddenly taken up sleeping later, it wasn't normal. Avians, like normal birds, were usually up with the sun and slept closer to sunset. Of course they could sleep in late or stay up later but it was just a biological rhythm they had that was different than humans. He frowned at Desmond's sleeping form before slipping into the room and slinking to the bed, the door closing quietly behind him.

Altair slid into his bed, because honestly it was his bed, he just couldn't get Adha or Desmond to get out of it, and pulled Desmond's wing up to move next to him. "Get up lazy bones," Altair said into Desmond's ear before nuzzling his neck.

He grunted when Altair bothered him. The sounds that came out of him after that were decidedly avian, cooing. Desmond warbled out a moan when he felt Altair's mouth and nose against his neck. There were small changes throughout the flock, but it didn't mean that Desmond wanted to get up.

"No," he whined, even as he rolled back, moving more onto his side.

Altaïr frowned at him, "Yes," he said having to move around to avoid getting inadvertently struck by Desmond's big wings. "It's late," he crawled over to straddle the side of Desmond's thigh. He pressed his lips behind Desmond's ear before sucking on it, "Wake up. New day. Breakfast is almost over," and he ran his hand up Desmond's chest slowly, sucking and nipping at Desmond's neck and ear. Even if the idea of missing food didn't wake Desmond this probably would.

Desmond let his breath leave him, shuddering beneath Altair's hand and mouth. "Don't... care." He was being roused, though it certainly wasn't just waking up. Eating was the last thing on his mind, not that there were very many things on it right now.

He managed to get himself on his back, and grabbed somewhat blindly for Altair. Lazy kid was too lazy to even open his eyes.

Altaïr chuckled when Desmond groped for him blindly and he just leaned down and pressed kisses to Desmond's mouth to save him the trouble. Desmond, of course, had done exactly what Altaïr had wanted him to do. "Good to know that even if food won't get you up the promise of sex will, he said, grinning against Desmond's mouth.

Pulling kisses from Altair, Desmond licked at the curve of his wry smile, mostly just to drag over his scar. He kept making partial chirping noises, wings twitching. "Altyyy," he grumbled, trying to sound annoyed even though his hands were all too gladly re-learning the scars on Altair's skin.

Altaïr pressed a few more kisses to Desmond's mouth and face. "So," he said, his wings up, arranged in such a way that they covered the both of them, "you just going to get up by yourself or make me get you up first?" Because really, it was Desmond, Altair didn't doubt he'd at least try to get some actual sex out of this.

Since they'd left the compound a few weeks ago the flock had settled into their new home and the Guild was happy to have them. Unlike the Assassins they didn't want anything from the flock other than a blood sample from each of them, and some feathers. It was a much better deal than the Assassins honestly. And the Guild didn't throw a fit with how often they requested condoms, or lube, or anything really. They also didn't expect the avians to eat with humans since the humans had a very different diet than them. It was great honestly and it wouldn't be the first time Altair had been indisposed for part of the morning because of Desmond and Adha. But both for very different reasons.

"We... haven't done anything like this in a while," Desmond muttered. They'd cuddled - or really as much as Desmond could get away with - and shared kisses but that was generally it. He knew that Altair and Adha certainly fucked, but Desmond had been more despondent in comparison. It was just exponentially obvious today.

Desmond sighed, then chased Altair's lips for a deeper, more tongue filled kiss. He'd also stopped talking about the ancients, he hadn't brought up the woman, though he sang and hummed her song at times. It was mostly because no one really listened when he told them about what they were, about what he had remembered.

Altaïr pressed his forehead to Desmond's, "Do you want to?" he asked. Again, would not be the first time he was busy in the morning. And by busy he meant staying in bed with one or the other. He did like to, you know, do actual stuff in the morning, before lunch and he and Adha flew around the Guild building a few times, but... Sex was a perfectly good exercise too.

"Yes," Desmond said, cooing softly. "I do." He reached up, lightly scratching Altair's scalp. "We're... so hopeless," he whispered. It wasn't exactly sad, but his eyes had gotten a little distant. His left hand found the scar on Altair's thigh, thumb rubbing over it.

He pushed himself up, holding on tightly to the things that made Altair the Altair that he was now and not centuries ago. That was the two bullet wounds, the cropped hair on his head that was so short it was soft, not too dissimilar from the kind of softness that flight feathers had. Desmond kissed him again, tongue prying at his mouth. "Maybe it's just me... I always find you."

Altaïr frowned a little, "What has gotten into you lately?" he asked. This wasn't the first time Desmond had said stuff like this, but he usually just let it go and didn't ask. He'd gone on about it more at first, along with the woman he'd seen, but he'd sort of stopped talking about both. Desmond still brought it up sometimes though, and he always looked... Not sad, rather like he was remembering something sad he'd seen.

"I'm not going to leave again," because he didn't have to. The Guild didn't ask for the sort of thing the Assassins did. "You don't have to find me," he took Desmond's hand. Honestly he was worried about the kid. He'd been so... Off, the past few weeks. "I'm right here," and he pressed Desmond's hand to his lips.

"I know but that's not what I mean." Desmond gave him a soft smile, the kind that was barely there. "This isn't the first time we've lived," he watched Altair, head tipping to the side. "And it won't be the last, but each time I've found you."

He pressed his forehead against Altair's. "I can't wait for them to return, things will go back to normal, and you'll know what I mean." It was funny. Every single time Altair always got that stupid scar on his lip. Desmond usually had a similar one, and sometimes it was Altair who gave it to him, his way of saying that this belonged to him. "Or... at least, I hope you will some day." Desmond didn't think he could even begin to explain it all.

Altaïr pursed his lips a little. He honestly had no idea what Desmond was talking about. As it was he could only sort of remember the last few months so he didn't know he was going to remember something he was pretty sure would never happen. "Whatever you say Desmond," Altair said and sat up, dropping his hands onto Desmond's hips. Honestly it was probably just better to agree. At the very least it was easier, though no less confusing.

Desmond was stuck on everything he remembered, and it wasn't just an offhanded 'whatever you say' kind of thing. He shook his head a little uncertainly and backed up, feeling Altair's fingers slip from his waist. "I... never mind, I can't." Not when it was like this. Aside from the fact that he loved Altair, and it was unreturned, the past lives that were in his head were his alone, and honestly, it exhausted him.

Even though he knew that he'd have to give up on ever really loving him once the Ancients woke, he could keep that to himself. Altair didn't have to know. They were a breeding pair that always returned somehow, and there was plenty of affection but it was never like this. At least, it never hurt like this. Desmond leaned over to nuzzle Altair, not quite kissing him.

Painful love was human, which was one thing Desmond did not want to be. "Things change," he mumbled, and turned to find something to pull over his briefs, not that there was really much for him to do. Even with the rate his feathers had fallen out and been replaced, they were not enough to support him in flight yet. He spent most of his time, when he wasn't asleep or curled up against Altair's side at night, with the artifacts and Malik, getting all of the crap he knew off of his chest. He thought that Malik recording all of it was a useless gesture, despite the fact that it was probably for Leo and the Guild to document. Other than that, it was really the only time that anyone paid any attention to him raving about fantastic, impossible things. Though it was seriously the only time Malik seemed even the slightest bit receptive. Usually he was even more skeptical than Altair.

Desmond tugged up the pair of shorts he'd grabbed. "I'm going to eat," he announced.

Before Desmond could get too far away Altair grabbed his hand. He was worried about Desmond. He seemed so... unhappy all the time. Like everyone was too stupid to understand whatever basic thing he understood easily. "Hey," he said and got out of the bed, still keeping hold of Desmond's hand. "I don't know what's up," he admitted and curved his wings around them, "But I'm here, okay?" and he pressed a brief kiss down onto Desmond's mouth.

"I know." His wings rose to push back against Altair's, fitting comfortably against them. "And I've told you before," Desmond tried to smile. "Malik has me talk to him when he's not busy." None of them were ever busy anymore. To him, it was as if they were all waiting, without knowing, for their keepers to return. Well, they were, but it was almost as if the rest of the flock actually knew. He sighed, shoulders sagging a bit. "You're always here for me." He couldn't help wishing that Altair knew exactly how much 'always' really meant.

"Damn right I am, someone has to keep track of you so your head doesn't fall off," he grinned, teasing and pressed another kiss to Desmond's lips before pulling his wings back and tucking them behind him. "You go eat. I'm going flying if you wanna come when you're done?"

His smile was genuine by the time Altair kissed him again. Desmond couldn't stop the quiet cooing before it happened. "I can watch. If they grow another six inches by the time I'm done eating, maybe I can fly." The offending wing was held out, and there was a somewhat jagged line where the new primaries and secondaries were coming in. He wasn't sure how he felt about all of them coming in with a gold tint, but there wasn't anything he could do about it.

"Watching is better than nothing," Altair said and when they left they went separate directions, Altair heading out, Desmond to find food.

Altair found Adha waiting outside for him already. She refused to wear most clothes, she wouldn't even wear pants. At most she'd wear was underwear and everyone just lived with it. Not that there was much to see since Adha had nearly no breasts and was slightly feathered on her chest in the first place. She jumped on him as soon as she saw him, cooing in delight. He smiled when he caught her and kissed her. At least someone was always enthusiastic to see him.

_"Sky walk,_" she said and wriggled out of his arms. She flapped three times and was in the air, since she knew what he was here for, to fly with her.

"_Softsong may watch_," Altair said once he'd gained altitude next to her. "_He misses sky_."

She looked annoyed, _"Snake got what deserved for doing_," she hissed and the feathers not on her wings stood up a little, though it was hard to tell with the wind buffering them down.

Desmond ate on his own, and was somewhat surprised that no one else was around. Then again, it was somewhere in the lull between lunch and dinner. He was definitely hungrier than he thought initially, and shoveled a second helping of room temperature food onto the plate. By the time dinner came around, he probably wouldn't be hungry at all.

He wasn't surprised when he found Connor outside. There were actual balconies with each room they were given at the Guild, none of those tiny, useless windows that barely gave enough ventilation to cool a room off, but actual windows and a rail-less platform. Desmond almost felt like he was with fledgeling feathers again, waving up at him.

Altair and Adha were just as easy to spot, and Desmond cried out to them, breaking into a run. It was unfair, really. His left wing caught the air just fine, but the right came up just barely too short. Even flapping, it wasn't enough, and he slowed down, chest heaving.

Adha made a whining noise as they watched Desmond, "_Sad see him like this_," she said.

"_Wings grow back_," Altair reminded her.

"_I know but still sad. He already sad_," she frowned. Then she tipped her wings and dropped. Brighteyes watched her but didn't follow. With a flourish she landed on the balcony with Softsong. She was slightly jealous of him. Brightwings had mostly golden wings, a little more than half her feather golden. But that was all she'd ever grow. Softsong's new feathers were growing in golden, meaning he could have more than her. She knew how golden her wings were didn't matter to Brighteyes but she couldn't help it.

Desmond had climbed up to it, wings flapping a bit when he had jumped, but other than that, most of it was him pulling himself up. It was honestly really weird to swear that he'd been able to jump much higher, and then remember that he wasn't exactly like that anymore.

The feathers on his arm rose, and he leaned forward to press his nose against Adha's cheek, wings flaring a little.

"_Brightwings come see Softsong_," she cooed to him, _"Make sure not sad_," though she knew he was. Any time Softsong could be less sad though would be better. "_Me worry,_" about him, because she did. He was important to Brighteyes though she didn't know why a male was so important to her mate, so he was also important to her. At least he didn't seem to hate her anymore.

Desmond tipped his head, sitting back. "_No worry_." He crouched rather than sat, though it was mostly because it was the only way his wings could be held comfortably and trilled back at her.

"_Feel them_," he said, "_k__eeper_." It was a loaded word, an old one. He had been counting the days, and sleeping most of them away, and it was just as much because he was depressed and tired as he wanted to waste time.

All of Adha's feathers stood on end, "_Keepers? Come?_" she asked and crouched down across from him. "_Real? Not remains wishsong?_" because her thing that remained with her old flock had sometimes sung about their keepers and wanting them to come back.

"_Soon_." Desmond could hear the artifacts if he stopped and listened hard enough, and they knew better than he when exactly 'soon' was. He closed his eyes and hummed. _"Woke them_," he said, and it was something he'd said to Adha a few times before, telling her that they were sleeping beneath them the whole time.

Brightwings rocked back onto the heels of her feet with a frown, crouched over her knees, "_Want now_," she said, maybe a bit petulantly. Unlike the others, like Desmond, she knew that things were going to change, would, very soon. She was waiting, but impatient about it.

"_I know_," Desmond murmured, wings unfolding a little to shake the feathers out. He looked up at Altair, obviously wistful. Pushing up, he stretched out with a soft keen. Both he and Ed were regaining the few feathers they had lost since leaving the wild flock.

Rauf hadn't quite lost his, and between him and Altair, the shorter, agile Rauf had retained the most of them. What was strange about it was that Connor and Yusuf were beginning to show signs of the same pattern of feather growth as well, and it went as far as Haytham.

Brightwings keened sadly a little. "_Now_," she whined and looked up at Desmond, "_We meet them as one?_" she asked and cocked her head at Desmond. She didn't have the memories Desmond did but she knew that once they came their flock might not always be together. Something would happen, though she wasn't entirely sure what.

"_Close_," Desmond replied. _"Stay close_." He had no idea what they would do, but he knew they were still rather close, and even though there used to be many of them, only some of them returned. He nudged her with one of his wings. "_Change first."_

"_Change_?" she asked, _"How change? Why? Like now,"_ she didn't like the sound of that. She liked what she was now. Why would there have to be change? She'd changed once for Brighteyes, left her home and come here to this flock and wore these... things on her body. She whined a little. She didn't want more change, even if she did want keepers back.

Desmond, on the other hand, though apprehensive, was looking forward to it. In the short time since they'd come to the Guild, he'd come to terms with the fact that he, and avians in general, had changed to fit more closely to humans. They were softer, weaker and smaller than they had been, and sometimes never even took on their wings. Humans killed avians, and to survive, they changed.

He had been somewhat afraid of how he remembered himself, or even Altair. It was much more than how he'd ended up when he went feral. The word for it sounded more like angel, and monstrous angels they were. Desmond told her that they had to change back, and it wouldn't happen easily.


	22. Please Tell Me I Heard That Wrong

It had been about a week, and Desmond's appetite had been a weird fluctuation between hungrier than all hell to absolutely disgusted with food. Leo found out about it, and Malik convinced Desmond that it was alright to go see him about it, especially when abdominal pain became a regular occurrence.

Apparently some of the others in the flock had been getting aches that were similar to growing pains, and even Malik had admitted that he'd been growing feathers underneath the loose shirt and pants.

Desmond had described the differences between how they were now and the creatures they were before to Malik, but he hadn't really thought about how those differences would be rectified. Where Leo was amazed that Desmond seemed to be creating an entirely new organ, Desmond was a little less than mortified, despite knowing that they were originally hermaphroditic. Hearing Leonardo say it was almost disturbing, especially when he started going on about actual bird anatomy. Having the word 'cloaca' in any way associated with him was not something he really wanted.

It wasn't exactly like a cloaca, Leo had said, kind of fumbling over his words in that weird and honestly creepy excitement, in that it should actually house both the vaginal canal and the penis, which would probably be internal. Desmond ultimately tuned him out. He couldn't decide whether to be weirded out by the way Leo talked about it, or the fact that it was an actual thing that was happening to him and it wasn't just the source of an excusable memory that might not have even happened. Or the fundamental fact that he wasn't actually all that uncomfortable with it.

Well, the Desmond that had grown up on the Farm was, but deeper than that, Desmond even felt a little better about it. It meant that he wasn't a complete basket case, and that the ancients were even closer to returning, if the fact that he'd gotten a full set of claws back meant anything on top of that.

There was really nothing Leonardo could offer, and Malik wasn't too pleased to hear that it would probably happen to the others, if it hadn't already begun with Adha either.

And Edward, he still looked like the grandfather he was, but hardly acted like it anymore. No one brought up that he had been losing his memory, and no one brought up when he stopped forgetting things. Or that he was acting more like a giant kid than some guy going on seventy. Connor, at least, was pleased that he could spend a lot more time doing dumb things with Ed.

Desmond left the strange medical office, and his stomach sank when Malik told him he would have to tell Haytham and Ed about this, especially if it would affect the other flock members. That meant that Altair would find out, and out of the entire flock, he didn't care if anyone else thought it was weird or disgusting, but the chance that Altair would made him upset to even think about the possibility.

"You know we can't just ignore this."

He fidgeted, picking at his feathers, mostly the grown primaries. "I know, but... to you... it's not normal." Desmond bit back a whine, killing it in his throat before it got out of his mouth.

When Haytham found Edward he was showing Connor how to cheat at cards. It was a lost cause. Connor was too honorable and numb fingered to cheat at cards. "Connor, I need to talk to Edward," he said when they noticed him.

"Go on, we'll try more later," Edward said, shuffling the deck and handing it to Connor. He gave his father and grandfather a last look before leaving. "So what's it?" Edward asked, enjoying the way his wings felt when he stretched them. Since they'd gone looking for Altair he'd started to be pained in them, early set arthritis a Guild doctor had told him the first few days they'd been here and he'd mentioned it. In the past two or so weeks though the pain had just... vanished. "Not something you wanna talk about in front of the boy if your face is any indication," Edward said.

"It's Ziio," Haytham said.

Edward frowned, "What about her?"

"Something's wrong with her."

"Yeah?" Edward asked, Ziio wasn't an avian but she'd come with them because she wouldn't let her son or Haytham go without her. "Something we need to be worried about?"

"I don't know. But she says she has near constant spinal and back pain."

"You tell her to go to the doctor?"

Haytham's wings rustled irritably, Edward swore they looked bigger than a week ago. "Of course I did! She's too stubborn for her own good though."

"Just like someone I know," Edward chuckled.

Haytham rolled his eyes, "I'm still... concerned. Something might happen."

"Just keep an eye on her," Edward said, "and give her some pain meds if she won't go to the doctor. I'm sure she'll be fine."

Desmond heard Haytham talking to Ed in the room, and hung by the door for a moment, watching Connor head off in the opposite direction. He didn't quite want to interrupt but hearing what was going on with Ziio piqued him, and not to mention Leo.

"What's wrong with Ziio?" He asked, letting himself in without actually knocking. The door was ajar anyway. Desmond looked from Haytham to his father, for the most part keeping Leo in the hall. Malik was still with him, also beside Leo, though he was too busy mentally cataloging so he could transcribe notes later.

It wasn't long before Desmond fidgeted. "Sorry for interrupting, I mean, I think there's something you need to know about uh... well about us," he said. "Maybe it would help?" He'd only really heard that Ziio might have needed medication for pain. Not exactly what it was for.

The two men stared Desmond down, not appreciateing being interrupted. Haytham gave Edward a look and neither of them say anything about Ziio, Desmond didn't need to know. "And what would that be?" Edward asked.

He hesitated briefly. "We're all changing. Uh... physically." Desmond glanced at the floor, "feathers and all of that and I'm pretty sure Ziio's supposed to be like us. An avian."

There was a slight irritation to his gaze when Desmond met Ed's. "I haven't really talked about what I remembered to anyone but Malik and Altaïr... that isn't really why we're here though um, there are other changes that aren't visible on the outside." He'd gone from irritated with their withholding to nervous and somewhat upset.

"We're supposed to be hermaphrodites and uh, obviously we aren't and that is kind of going to change? For all of us, I mean not just me." He should've just let Leonardo break the news.

The two of them stared at Desmond now with the biggest looks of 'the fuck?' on their faces. "Excuse me?" Edward said.

Desmond almost flinched. "There aren't two sexes."

"It's quite amazing, really," Leonardo interrupted, though he didn't exactly push his way toward the room. "I don't know exactly how it is happening, but it does appear that Desmond is right. He is rather far along himself."

While Leo talked behind him, Desmond tried valiantly not to fidget, but did nod. Clearly, he wasn't keen on the dubious kind of almost-disgust.

Haytham and Edward looked at each other a moment, looking confused and bewildered. Edward then looked down at his crotch and Haytham pressed his hand over his face with a sigh. "I'm taking there isn't anything we can do to stop this is there?" he asked.

Desmond was quiet for a while. "No, not really... no," he said as he let his wings relax a little. "We don't... look anything like we're supposed to, but I don't know how much will change." He brightened, and turned back to Leonardo, feathers rustling.

"Do you have the drawings? From when you asked me to describe everything to you?"

There was a pause, and then, "No, only digital copies-" Desmond had already snatched the device from Leo, who was more concerned with him scratching the screen with his claws than anything else. Though the screen of the phone wasn't really the ideal size, and made Leonardo's scrawling, backwards handwriting totally illegible, the overall scan was clear. There were no defining facial features, but the structure of the being was clearly not all that humanoid. Perhaps only traces of it in the length of the limbs in respect to the length of the torso, but beyond that, not much.

"Leo said something about why we're not like that anymore, it was something... about evolving to not get killed? I dunno, survival or something like that." Desmond showed off the image, and Leonardo made an exasperated sound.

"It isn't that avians are so rare, I don't think," Leonardo began, respectfully staying outside of the room where Desmond had let himself completely in and walked up to show them his phone. "But rather that surviving was better ensured the more human-like they appeared. Of course, that means that the more human-looking avians survive to breed, or are interbred with humans. However, Desmond's knowledge of how avians are supposed to look leads me to believe that at least a number of you reincarnate."

"That aside, though, it is simply amazing how quickly the evolutionary change happened, that for survival, even within one specimen, the body changed so quickly. Take Altair for example, and even you when you went to fetch him. Mere weeks, and the body had already adapted to survive better. Rapid evolution, absolutely incredible..." Leonardo trailed off, and then startled back into focus.

"... Furthermore, I believe a similar type of rapid evolution is happening again, for survival as well as preparation for ah... Those Who Came Before. And likely why females are inherently rare, even if Desmond's claims are true, and Ziio is supposed to be an avian."

Edward was rubbing his head, he was too old for all this nonsense. Times like this made him wish Rashid wasn't dead. He'd been better at dealing with all this bullshit. "So, you're saying," Haytham said, at least his son was smarter than him, bless the kid had gotten his mother's smartness, "that somehow we're experiencing rapid evolutionary change. Okay," he said slowly and pressed his fingers together with slightly pursed lips. "For what? You say we evolved to survive in this world and I say we've done that pretty well. But why the change?"

"The Ancients are dead," Edward said, when Desmond opened his mouth to complain Edward beat him to it, "I know you say you saw one, kid. But the fact remains that every time I went down to those ruins by myself or with Rashid they were dead. They were empty. And we tried to get them to work again. So what changed? Why are we changing after a few thousand years when this look has done us pretty well so far?"

"They were never dead, not really. And I wasn't around to bring them back then, was I?" Desmond glared, gripping Leo's phone a little tighter than need be. "What changed is that I brought them back, because... because humans had their chance. They ruined it, and they can't clean up the mess. Because we aren't their pawns to use." Desmond had enough thought to return the phone.

He was a little unsure of really saying this with Leonardo right there. "They made us to keep humans in check," Desmond said. "And they left us to it, but time led to humans forgetting, and that led to the temples crumbling, and we began to forget. Humans fear what isn't like them, and really, you saw the drawing, we aren't exactly fluffy adorable kid-friendly. Or we weren't. Without the Ancients, we forgot... everything. The past, the language, the artifacts, ourselves."

Desmond wasn't really sure whose fault it really was anymore, and even the fact that they had forgotten such a fundamental truth probably wouldn't go unpunished either.

Edward sighed and rubbed his head again, he felt tired. And damnit he should he was getting on and closer to seventy-five than he was to seventy now. Though honestly a lot of this sounded like what Rashid used to say, about the Ancients and everything. He rarely talked about it with the others, but when Edward was little he used to go on and on about it, saying all sorts of stuff Edward thought was great when he was little but as he got older started to think maybe Rashid was out of his damn mind. They had found him down there, alone, in the ruins. No one knew where he came from, how he got there.

"Okay," Edward sighed.

"Edward you can't be se-

"I said okay," Edward gave his son a look. Haytham met his gaze but looked away after a few seconds. Haytham could stand where Edward was soon enough. But damnit he was going to have to wait until Edward died before trying for his position in truth. He looked at Desmond and unfurled his wings a bit, they reached out and he pushed the door closed with one, perks of having a huge wingspan. He shut Malik and Leo out, but really it was more Leo and he knew Malik wouldn't let Leo listen in. If Edward wanted privacy he'd get it. "So we're changing and according to you they're coming back. So what do we do? Hmm?" Edward asked. "Because if what you're saying is right then it might be that they'll be pissed and really, we aren't doing anything they didn't make us for."

Desmond looked away, shoulders and wings rising up. "I don't... know. Those of us that look human will probably end up dying without having the time or uh... you know, stuff? To properly grow wings... but other than that... nothing. She didn't have instructions or anything..." Desmond had to remember that Ed and Haytham didn't know what he did, and that if he were in their position he'd probably think that whoever was telling him this was absolutely insane. The only real hard proof was... Desmond's sex, and all that showed really was that something was turning him into a hermaphrodite, it didn't quite support anything else, and was honestly still incredibly far-fetched.

"So until we get something more important than you telling us what to do everything will continue as normal," Edward told Desmond firmly and brushed his wing against Desmond. It wasn't a gentle touch though. More a 'remember your place' bump. "I'll... Tell the others we may be experiencing... Physical changes. Crap. They're all going to freak out aren't they?" he asked Haytham.

"Considering by human standards they're all incredibly violent, competitive, alpha males; no, I don't think they'll take it very well."

"Perfect," Edward sighed. He pointed at Desmond. "You don't say a thing about this to anyone unless you're rambling to Malik. Understand? Or I'll lock you in your own room."

"But Altair-" Desmond really needed to stop ceeding so quickly. He closed his mouth, trying not to growl. "It isn't like you have to worry about it. You're not breeders." The word was ancient and hissed through his teeth. "It just means your dick isn't gonna flap around everywhere when you're not using it."

He took the chance to beat his hasty retreat. Ed had better not lock him up, he was frankly tired of hearing the threat even if the last time he had heard it was some time ago when he wasn't part of the flock. Desmond slipped past Malik, and it seemed like Leonardo had gone back to wherever it was that he stayed - his best guess was the same strange laboratory-slash-office.

In all honesty, he didn't even know why he tried. Even if he didn't try to explain, what was going to happen would happen. Desmond letting Edward or Haytham know wouldn't change the course of action, and would have saved him the risk of making a complete fool of himself.

It upset him that he couldn't get to the artifacts, just to a room that led to another, locked, room. And this one was keyed. Not as safe as the door back at the Farm, but it sure as hell kept Desmond out. He never got to show them to Adha either, and he'd promised her he would. Ultimately, he ended up pacing the hallway, wanting but unable to go to the artifacts, and wanting to go and just burrow into Altair's shared bed and ignore everything until it sorted out. Until everything was the way it was supposed to be, or he'd even settle for it returning to the vaguely stressed normalcy that was the Farm.

He just really missed a warm presence, a gentle hand on his feathers and a soft voice.


	23. I Have a What?

It was morning and Altair felt exhausted. Adha had slept quietly last night, nuzzled into his chest and was still there, Desmond was tucked into his flank on the other side. But he still felt tired as hell like he'd just run a marathon.

Grumbling he sat up and that didn't sit well with his bed mates who complained. But Altair, despite just wanting to sleep in for once, had to piss, bad. He climbed over Desmond, mindful enough if his big ass wings and stumbled into the bathroom. Thankfully he didn't have to share with Ezio or anyone anymore. Well just Adha and Desmond of course but at least now he didn't get unexpected visitors like Ezio waltzing in while he was sitting on the toilet. He snorted and was honestly just happy he could remember that at all.

He pushed his underwear down a bit and reached down and...

Altaïr blinked to make sure he was awake and looked down.

There was nothing there.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Edward had told everyone they were likely to be going through some physical changes, but he assumed he didn't apply since he already had. But this... WHERE THE FUCK HAD HIS DICK GONE? He really hoped this was a dream and he woke up. He wanted to wake up... Right now.

The most pathetic sound left his mouth. It was a whine and he sounded about as upset at you could imagine that his dick was just... Not there.

How the hell was he supposed to pee?!

Desmond was awake enough to hear the muffled whining from the bathroom. He groggily disregarded it, but pushed himself up, nearly stumbling as he went to the door. "Alty?" He was confused at first, and kind of leaned against the door at first, forehead against the cool wood. "You o- oh..."

Altaïr looked over his shoulder when he heard Desmond. "I really have to pee," he said and he was more concerned about that at the moment than just that his dick was gone. It didn't exactly /feel/ gone. Like he could feel it still, cause he had to piss the same way he always did. His dick was just... Out of the picture temporarily and something told him not to worry about it too much.

"I meant the pitiful whimpering." He yawned, feathers rising. Desmond turned away from the door, and went back to the bed, finding Adha a warm replacement to snuggle against.

Since his body had decided that human penises were out of style, he'd been a little more touchy-feely. Mostly just curling against or leaning on Altair or Adha, which had turned out to be fine. He hadn't found sufficient alone time, but seriously. Desmond was really curious. He knew, in theory, how it worked but he was still /Desmond/, and fuck if he wasn't curious about the whole vagina aspect. Or maybe he was just ready for another fuck. It had been a while, and though the kissing and weird cuddling was great, it wasn't as good.

Altair was starting to wake up more now and with it was a slowly rising panic that there wasn't anything down there. He controlled himself from having a full on freak out though. Girls didn't have dicks and they peed just fine. He would be ibfine/b/i. Though he would do so he didn't quite know yet. So... how did this work.

He pulled down his underwear a bit more to poke around down there, being careful of his claws because wow that would be a bad thing if he snagged them on something. He still really had to pee. "Oh," he said in more than a little surprise when something sort of... poked out of his skin. There was sort of a flap over it. "Oh good," he said to himself, since like he thought his dick wasn't igone/i it was just... hiding. He sighed because now he'd figured out the mystery of how he could pee again. God bless.

Now much more awake he poked at around that area and thankfully wasn't panicky anymore. Fuck, as weird shit had happened to him like he was seventeen and sprouted giant fucking wings. For all he knew this was just a thing dude avians did when they got older. He didn't know. He'd never seen Haytham or Edward naked and he really didn't want to. So he wasn't too riled up about it. Once he was satisfied he knew how it worked again he washed his hands (and christ he was going to have to figure out how to wash that now...) and went back into the bedroom. He cocked his head at the two sleeping avians in his bed.

Adha hadn't changed. She was like how he'd met her. But Desmond though... he hadn't seen Desmond naked since before he'd left for South America. Maybe it wasn't just a thing older avians had happen to them. He went to the bed and crawled in, laying on top of Desmond's wing behind him. He nuzzled against Desmond's neck, wrapped his arm around Desmond's waist and then pressed his hand down into Desmond's boxers.

Desmond groaned, trying to keep his wings from getting stuck under Altair. By the time he'd realized where Altair's hand was going and grabbed his arm, it was a little too late. He pretty much stopped moving completely, chest still aside from the wildly nervous beat of his heart.

Altair had his hand down there and there wasn't anything where it was supposed to be, and for the first time he'd actually listened and didn't talk like Ed told him to- "Don't freak out, seriously don't," Desmond mumbled, just about begging. And shit, his fingers were so close, his hips could twitch and they would rub right over the top of the slit. Well, it wasn't like there was nothing there, but it was more like a mound, and that was where everything stayed mostly. He had no idea, he'd been kind of afraid to actually figure out how it worked other than to piss (and even so, he'd waited to crack that open until he honestly couldn't leave it any longer, and his bladder hated him for it).

"Huh," Altair said and patted Desmond down a little before removing his hand, "No wonder you didn't want to do it," and then he sat up and got off Desmond's wing. He ran his hand first through Desmond's hair, then through Adha's who woke enough to trill a little sleepily. i"Going for food,i"he said. Adha chirped that she heard but didn't wake up.

He didn't really keep back the shaky, little keen. Or specifically, couldn't. Desmond did stop the grumble when Altair took his hand back. "That's-" Desmond pushed himself up, watching Altair.

"I mean, it's not really- I just... Ed said not to say anything about it." He picked at the feathers on his arms, knees drawn up. "I don't know how it works," he went on to admit, voice quiet. "Sexually, how it works sexually."

Altair pulled on shorts, because with leg feathers he couldn't wear pants anymore, which sucked a bit, and looked at Desmond. He glanced at Adha who was sleeping soundly again, "Well not like I'm going to force you to figure it out if you don't want to. This why you've been so damn weird lately? Ed said we were gonna change some, and... well," he shrugged, he really didn't know what to say. He was sure he'd freak out about it later at some point, but not now.

"Kind of... It's... also kind of a lie, I know how it's supposed to work, I just don't know if I'm okay with it?" Desmond furrowed his brow. The past him, or what he remembered of him, was honestly fine and dandy with it. Better, even. But the last twenty years of him were a little bit more prevalent. They were recent and who he was now was because of those years, not the distant memories of some bird he was in the past. All in all, it just hurt his head, and was why he talked to Malik about it.

Desmond scooted to the edge of the bed, "You said you were going to get food...? Can I come with?"

"Sure," Altair said, doing his belt. "And well... I assume we're stuck like this so not much we can do about it. Get dressed, I'm starving."

They had cut off a lot of pant legs since they got there, and Desmond tugged on one of the many pairs of hastily made cut-offs. "It was fine, I just didn't think you already... you know, changed uh... already." He gestured uselessly at his general pelvic area.

"Are we going or are you just going toto stand there?" Desmond asked, watching Altair buckle the belt. He didn't understand why he wore it.

"Yeah, c'mon," Altair led Desmond outside, Adha still sleeping. "And it kinda happened overnight," he said awkwardly. "I mean I went to bed pretty normal, and now woke up tired and hungry as hell."

That was more or less how he'd been, "I think that's just... how it is. We didn't have all that junk." Desmond followed him, mostly because he couldn't walk beside Altair in the halls without either of them hitting the wall with a wing.

He definitely liked the separate mess halls though, and considerably less cooked food - meat especially. Desmond served himself and waited for Altair, who was getting much more than he was.

Altair had two plates, one full of meat, the other with grain. There were no fruits, no vegetables. His father had always told him to eat his veggies but avians processed food differently and burned through it faster. Fruits were good if you were really low on sugar, but it just made you wired through most of the day and could easily leave you with a sugar headache. The vegetables weren't needed for them to get the proteins they needed. Sometimes it was nice to have them but their bodies had an even harder time breaking down vegetables than normal humans did. He sat down across from Desmond and before starting eating he looked right at the kid and said, "If you wanna figure out how it works you can ask." Then he turned to his breakfast with gusto.

"I know how it works!" He muttered, "I told you already..." Desmond glared down at his plate, mixed rice with the mostly raw beef and went at it. He called it rice, but it was mostly quinoa, it didn't really matter to him. It tasted good, and it was easy to eat.

Sitting back, he watched Altair eat for a bit before turning back to his food. "You're the one who knows nothing about exactly what you have down there anymore."

"Eh, I'll figure it out. I'm sure Adha will be happy to help me on that," because she would.

Desmond kicked him under the table. Lucky he didn't have a dick and balls hanging out for him to slam his foot into anymore. "Thanks, asshole." His feathers were fluffed out a bit like it had been an attack on him rather than just an offhanded comment.

He didn't even for a moment expect Altair to understand why it upset him, nor did he really want to explain himself. They were just fucking anyway, to Altair, that was all it was.

"Well you aren't exactly making yourself available for figuring it out," Altair said and rubbed his leg because fuck Desmond had just kicked him seemingly as hard as he could from that position. "Fuck that hurt," he gave Desmond a look. "No need to be so damn defensive. You know I give you both equal treatment," which was true. He tried to at least. But if Desmond was going to be moody about not getting any it was his own damn fault since Altair was available. Desmond just... wasn't.

He turned his glare on Altair. "Yeah, well I'm pretty damn available, I wasn't supposed to oh, you know, tell anyone. I actually listened - not that you would've believed me if I said anything or would've taken it well." Desmond nearly rolled his eyes. Nearly.

"'Cause hey, all the feathers are fine and all, it's nothing that crazy- you don't realize you have a full on vagina down there, do you." His head tipped to the side, brows set at an incredulous angle aside from the deadpan expression on his face. It wasn't a question. "Adha has a dick too."

All the food Altair had been eating spontaneously fell out of his mouth and he nearly dropped his spoon. "I have a iwhat/i now?" he asked and looked down at his lap.

He did roll his eyes now. "You don't have to worry about it. You're more of... a stud, I guess." Just like Ed and Haytham. "Still bet it feels pretty damn good anyway." It was another case of 'when Desmond starts talking, he doesn't stop talking.'

Desmond fixed him with a stare and sighed. "See why I didn't want you poking around in my pants? That. That's why." And it really fucking sucked.

Altair looked at Desmond and opened and closed his mouth a few times dumbly. Then he very pointedly pushed his mouth closed with his hand. "Okay," he said slowly and reminded himself to not freak out. So far he thought he was doing a pretty good job of it honestly. He hadn't screamed or flipped out or anything, but then he'd never been the type to do so unlike... "Oh shit," he said but he was grinning. "This is happening to all of us at some point right? Fuck I cannot wait to see what Ezio does!" and all at once he wasn't freaked out for real. The thought of Ezio losing his god damn mind over this was far too pleasing an image to worry about otherwise.

Then he composed himself again, "Okay, so maybe it'd be weird as fuck. But, in case you didn't notice; we all grew gigantic wings from our backs. Honestly after growing two extra limbs I can't find much to be weirded out for long now. Especially after what happened to me," he said meaning when he'd gone feral and his entire chemical makeup had changed along with a good deal of his physiology. "And for the record; if Adha does have a dick, I haven't seen it."

"If not now, she'll get one. We're supposed to have both." Desmond shrugged. Altair wasn't flipping out about it so much, and he was fine. He even went back to finish eating. Desmond lifted his foot, gingerly pressing his toes against Altair's. It was a kind of wordless apology for kicking him, though he was still a little miffed that it seemed like he hadn't even considered Desmond.


	24. Doctor Feel Good

Altair had sent Adha to Leo, and had left to take her there a little while ago. Desmond was left to his own devices, and after showering, gave into the curiosity. He was glad to find out that it took a bit of effort to actually scratch himself, considering the rather wicked curve to the claws at his fingertips. Sure, he'd gotten aroused, but actually getting hard almost seemed like it was impossible.

He groaned, and flopped back down, rolling onto his side. Really, he was no less horny than he had been weeks ago, his attempts had just been... incredibly unsuccessful. Desmond had found out that trapping his hand between his thighs and more or less rubbing against his forearm did something. Whatever Desmond ended up doing ultimately left him unfulfilled and and far from satisfied.

Desmond grumbled and traced his thumb over the seam, almost but not quite cooing. He would kill for a Goddamn cock. Or at the least someone else's fingers. Yeah, Altair's would've been real fucking great.

Leo was, as always, happy to see any of the avians. He was troubled that Adha was so under the weather though since avians were usually so resilient to illnesses. "You don't have to stay Altair," Leo said as he took her temperature, just to start off. "I promise I'll be gentle."

Not the best thing to say. Altaïr's wings rustler and fanned out a bit. "If she's any less perfect than when I brought her here I will do something you won't like," he growled.

Leo swallowed, "Of course! No fear she'll be fine," he promised.

"Okay," he huffed, "Brightwings Leo is going to look over you. Just do what he says and come find me when you're done," he said and stroked her hair. He knew she understood a good bit of English now, but couldn't speak it. She nodded and he kissed her on the forehead before leaving realizing he'd probably just get anxious watching Leo.

He headed back to his room since he knew Desmond was probably there still after his shower. Maybe he could convince Desmond to be entertaining. He was so caught up in being worried about Adha he didn't really pay attention to his own room until he'd closed the door. "Oh..." he said, "Well, this isn't the first time I've caught you in a compromising position," and he literally just remembered that now.

He swore, and one of his wings came up. It didn't exactly cover him, just flared in his surprise. "Alty, uh..." Desmond gave a weird half whimper that probably wasn't as odd as it might have been a few months ago.

Desmond still wasn't too sure about rolling onto his back, though, but his hand had stopped moving.

Altaïr's cocked his head to the side, "You look weird without a dick. Not bad, just strange," he said. He went and sat on the edge of the bed, sensing Desmond was was /super/ uncomfortable about this. Though if Altair remembered Desmond had always been at least slightly flustered when Altair 'caught' him pleasuring himself. "Can I watch? Or do you want me to leave?" he asked.

"Do you want... to touch?" He'd looked away when Altair said he looked strange. Desmond bit his lip, at least leaning somewhat on his back now, one wing still folded beneath him. "It's a little better than trying to poke around yourself," he muttered, unwilling or unable to look directly at him. "I mean, if it wasn't like this, I'd really like a good fuck, some hot, slow foreplay and all that.

"So much shit's been happening." Desmond's flecked eyes moved up to Altair's, "I really missed you, you know..."

"Well that's your own fault," Altaïr said and leaned over to Desmond's mouth, "because I've been right here the whole time," and he kissed Desmond gently but fully and ran his hand slowly up the inside of Desmond's thigh.

Desmond's grumbled ended up more like a groan against Altair's lips. His legs spread at his touch, expectant. "'M not sorry for waking them," he muttered, stubborn. His teeth grazed Altair's bottom lip and he pulled it into his mouth, having sat up a bit to free his wing and press closer to him.

"Just be more entertaining when it happens to Ezio," Altair said with a grin and his hand continued its journey up Desmond's body. He was going to worry about the new bits later. Desmond still seemed stressed out so he was just going to touch him and kiss him, which Desmond seemed to enjoy immensely. Altaïr kissed his mouth and his lips then his face. He smoothed his hand across Desmond's chest as he moved on to kiss his neck. It had been a long time since Altaïr had left a mouth shaped bruise on Desmond's body. He thought it was high time to make that happen again.

He more or less sank into the feeling of Altair's hand and lips, tipping his head back with a long, low keen so he could seek out his throat. The feathers on his body rose, fluffing and shuddering along with him as a shiver raced along his spine. Desmond's hands were against Altair, fingers digging into short hair, gently worrying small, soft feathers that blurred the line between hair at the back of his neck, and feathers at the nape of his neck that ran all the way down his back.

Altaïr moved himself and straddled Desmond's thigh, kissing him properly again. He ran one hand through his hair, the other gently fit itself against Desmond's neck. The feral, wild, side of Altair was saying this was his. He honestly was as possessive over Desmond as he was of Adha. In his head they were his and he didn't want others /touching/ them inappropriately. He stroked Desmond's throat with his thumb gently as he kissed him, his other hand practically petting Desmond, running through his hair again and again.

The cooing became a rough, quiet trill into Altair's mouth. Desmond squirmed, clearly enjoying the gentle hand on his neck, caressing his throat, over the new, tender bruise. His hips responded with a shallow jerk. God, he loved Altair touching him. "Alty," he murmured again, mostly just breathing against his lips rather than actually kissing him.

"That's it," Altair said softly and gave Desmond's throat a gentle squeeze before letting go and moving again. This time to sit between Desmond's legs and he grabbed both of Desmond's thighs and pulled them so they were on either side of him. He returned to kissing Desmond's mouth and neck, one of his hands finding Desmond's and threading his fingers through Desmond's, pressing it to the bed. His other ran up the outside of Desmond's thing as he rolled his hips forward.

Desmond keened, fingers tightening on Altair's hand. He'd felt his cock twitch, and by the time Altair touched him, it was hardening and pushing up. Stranger still was the fact that he felt wet, and honestly didn't mind his fingers, and certainly did not mind his hips. Desmond ground against him.

His body was definitely getting ahead of what he thought he was remotely ready for, but fuck, it felt like everything was throbbing.

Altaïr sat back, but still kept one of his hands twined with Desmond. "There we go," Altair said with a grin and looked down at Desmond. The head of Desmond's cock was starting to poke out of the sheath. Altaïr ran his thumb across it, but otherwise didn't touch him. "You looked kinda worried that wouldn't happen," he smirked. Really this was just like Desmond. Completely ahead of Altair who was just starting to get turned on.

The groan out of his mouth was more of a strangled warble. Desmond's eyes were darkening with his arousal, and the feathers that could move were fluffed out across his chest and shoulders. "I couldn't... get it up," he mumbled, stiffening and then relaxing.

It was either really fucking weird, or really damn good, which of the two was totally unclear. Desmond was far from sure, but he knew that whatever it ended up being, he really did enjoy it, squeezing Altair's hand. It kept him there. Grounded. Aware and totally sure where and when he was. His other hand came up and tugged Altair back into another kiss.

"I don't care... what you do, just don't stop." Desmond was on the verge of breathlessness, mumbling against Altair's lips, most of his kisses actually missing his mouth and landing more on his chin and the crease from the corner of his lips.

"Okay," Altair said, his hand still down by Desmond's hip. He ran his thumb across his cock sticking out like it was eager to investigate what felt so good. Altaïr had far better aim with his kisses than Desmond did and pressed them easily against Desmond's mouth and lips.

He stopped when things moved down there. He sat back and undid his pants but the whole... Thing was at a slightly weird angle. He pushed his shorts down further before just taking them off. His underwear still hung lowly on his hips though and he sent his hand down to investigate what the situation was.

Altaïr made a pleased sound and smiled, eyes closing. Okay it still felt the same, good to know.

Satisfied with what was going on there Altair wriggled out of his briefs since he knew they were both going to need more friction to do this. At least he was. He leaned down and kissed Desmond and rolled his hips against him, squeezing Desmond's hand tightly in the mattress.

Desmond felt himself slide out against Altair, and pushed his hips up. "Fuck... ffh..." That was fine, that was fine. He did mourn the loss of Altair's fingers, trying not to whine about it.

His fingers ended up tangled in his hair again. "What... uhm.. what do you do with Adha...?" Desmond asked, voice low. Even now and he still hadn't lost that human embarrassment, and likely wouldn't. "When you have sex, I mean...?"

"Uh... I don't think that really applies," Altair said, fuck why the hell was Desmond bringing up Adha? He was doing to /not/ think about her right now. Doing so sent a flash of worry through him he stubbornly stamped down. "I mean..." he gave Desmond a funny look, "Unless you have the same parts now?"

"That's what being a hermaphrodite means..." Desmond looked away, letting himself fall back more completely on the bed. "N-nevermind, forget I asked." He was horribly conscious of it all now. The addition to his anatomy and the fact that he had entertained the thought of Altair fucking that - he didn't even have a /word/ for it.

Normally Altair was low ranked when it came to having shame. As in; he didn't actually have any. But this was new, and weird and even he felt awkward about the whole thing. After all how else were you supposed to take finding out a guy was suddenly... Half a girl? Or at least had the parts and... it was just weird.

Really though he didn't want to treat Desmond like Adha. They weren't the same. But Altair was up to trying anything at least once. That was, afterall, how he decided he liked dudes after all, and girls after he'd found that out. He nuzzled Desmond's neck. "We can do whatever you're okay with," Altair told him, kissing his neck and running some of his fingers through his wing.

Desmond relaxed somewhat, lulled by the lips and breath against his skin. "Not... not now." Whatever that had prompted him to ask was gone now, he kind of just wanted to roll over and forget about it. That didn't mean that it wasn't responding to Altair like his dick was. The entire area was erogenous, it was kind of hard not to, especially when he hooked one of his legs over Altair's hip.

"Do you just wanna do it the way you're used to?" Altaïr asked, as in, before Desmond had grown a second sexual organ... And wow that was an entire train of thought Altair didn't want to go down. "Or just want me to make you feel good?" Because he was good at that at least.

"Just make it feel good," Desmond responded, pushing up against Altair. There was only so much time he could spend on his back, and his wings just needed to move. He settled against Altair's thighs, the limbs spreading out behind him.

* * *

There is no pay off. So don't worry, you aren't missing anything =u=/


	25. Fledgling

Altaïr was dosing, feeling good and relaxed. Desmond was curled up against his chest doing the same. Altaïr ran his hand through Desmond's hair now and then, his claws scraping gently across Desmond's scalp. He felt utterly happy and content. He made a soft, confused, warble when the door opened. He looked up a bit and saw it was Adha. "Brightwings?"

"Brighteyes," she cooed as she closed the door. She didn't look any better but she seemed happier. She flapped her wings to propel her into the bed. She left Desmond to be snuggled up against Altair's chest and nuzzled against the back of Altair's neck adoringly.

"Good?" Altair asked.

"Wondrous," Adha beamed and sat back on her calves. Altaïr twisted his head around a bit to look at her. She had her hands placed on get flat stomach. "Fledgling," but not the same term for fledgling like you'd use on Desmond or Connor.

Altaïr sat up abruptly, disrupting Desmond but hardly noticing. "With fledgling?" he asked because fledgling was also baby, or child, and new thing and student. Adha just trilled a yes that wasn't a word but just emotion; happy. Altaïr felt his face go slack in surprise and shock. She'd been sick mainly in the mornings. Now it all made sense. He didn't know why he hadn't realized it.

Adha was pregnant.

Desmond ended up mostly on top of one of his wings, and had to actually get off of the bed with an ignored whine. He folded them back up and took his place at the edge of the bed, watching Adha.

Ugh... fuck, he was jealous, and it made him irritated because there was no real reason for him to be and he knew it. Desmond kept mostly silent, and didn't really make a move to cuddle into Altair's lap again. "They'll like that," he murmured, deciding that it was about time for him to actually get up.

Altaïr took Adha's face in both hands and kissed her. She kissed him back and then when they parted he pressed his forehead against hers. He didn't say anything, just made soft sort of bird noises. He couldn't say he was upset. Yeah he was surprised and before he'd gone feral children was literally the last thing he wanted. But feral thoughts came with feral wants and feral avians were always trying to have as many children as possible since their numbers were so few and scattered.

Adha echoed most of his happy noses with her own, running her fingers along the top of his hands. "Ours," she said softly and kissed him once on the lips.

He couldn't bring himself to interrupt, but couldn't stand the bubbling coos either. Desmond dug through his portion of the clothes and pulled something serviceable on. There were obvious marks of Altair's mouth on his skin, even bruises on his wrist and hips, and he didn't mind.

Desmond slipped out and sat on the ledge, wings held up to keep the feathers from bending. He picked through them, wanting to do a whole handful of things all at once. Break into the locked room with the artifacts was one, while the other side of the spectrum encompassed flying all the way home and going to hide in the ruins. He knew it was practically impossible.

Adha noticed when Desmond did, though Altair didn't. "Hey," he called when Adha got up a few minutes later.

"Right back," Adha promised, brushing her wing against his. Then she went out to where Desmond was. Cautiously she put her hand on his shoulder. "Upset?" she asked, in English. Brighteyes didn't know she could say a few words, but she could. They were hard for her though and she didn't like how... Rigid they were. "Upset?" she asked again, this time with all of the breadth the word had in their song tongue.

His fingers tightened on the feathers he was preening. Rather than answer right away, Desmond pulled his wings up even further, hoping it would dislodge her hand. He was a little more than upset, though confused was more accurate.

"Lost." His response was as curt as the language allowed. "I just... I want to forget this lifetime even existed," Desmond mumbled in English, almost unwilling to say the words. He still didn't know if he'd done the right thing. He woke the ancients because... he was angry with Bill. He wasn't sure if he really wanted it, not the way things would turn out.

If he was being honest, he just wanted to go back to when he woke up in Altair's room, new wings limp and looking like a collection of giant, soft, grey q-tips. He wished he'd kept his feelings to himself, the stupid human feelings that made him do stupid things that only made things worse. Desmond regretted, and he regretted a lot of things.

Adha frowned. "Come," she ordered and grabbed Desmond's shoulder and with more strength then you'd think was in her small body she hauled him to his feet. She grabbed his hand and pulled him back into the bedroom.

"Adha- what are you doing?" Altair asker, confused why they were both inside and Adha was throwing clothes out of his dresser.

"Come," she told Desmond, "Stay," she added to Altair who pouted at her. She dragged Desmond out of the room by the hand and down the hall to a door that was always locked. She liked walking down past this room because she could hear the singing even through the door.

Adha fit a funny key into the lock and turned it. The lock clicked and opened. The remains' song grew as she pushed Desmond inside and followed him. She closed get eyes in delight hearing the remains sing and her wings fanned out, the golden feathers glowed a little. "Remember here," she said and then started to sing, her voice high and sweet.

Desmond couldn't really find it in him to be angry that Adha had stolen a key and had it the entire time. It probably could have made him a lot more amicable when he was a little rockier over the past few weeks. He shook his head, not wanting to be pulled into it and numbed by the act even though it pulled at him, made his eyes light up and his feathers glitter.

He didn't want to let go of his frustration, even though it was so petty and meaningless beside the words Adha and the artifacts sang. Insignificant next to the Ancients who were returning, and it wouldn't be long now.

Gaze unfocusing, Desmond found his voice joining in, and could almost feel as he was meant to, even though his body did not quite match. He swore he could feel fingers petting his hair, palms brushing over the back of his wings. Now, he wanted it to go all the way back, where he lived with his keeper.

Adha sang until her throat was hoarse, until no amount of swallowing eased the ache there. By the time that had happened Desmond hadn't been able to keep going and was sitting, looking up at her. That that remained quieted as her singing petered out, happy that someone had sing with them for so long. She dropped down to her knees next to him. "Remember too," she said softly and brushed her fingers across Desmond's bangs. "Keepers. Home," her feathers bristled for a moment, "War," she said softly. "Want back. Want what was. Don't hate me in this life," she said and pressed her lips briefly to his forehead, "Others we were the same. Want same. Had same. Will be same again."

He gave a rough whimper, feeling himself nuzzle against her hand. Desmond's wings folded slowly. Whatever was human in him would at least be irritated with her. He cooed, and kissed Adha's cheek.


	26. Radar

Desmond was more or less calm. Days turned into weeks, and those weeks became months. And a good three weeks were set aside when Ziio died, a victim of the sudden and rapid growth of her wings. She hardly had them for a few days, but her body could not take the strain. He tried to tell Haytham that it was alright, but couldn't get him or Connor to listen to him. So the flock mourned.

He spent a lot of his time bringing food to Adha, making sure she was comfortable, keeping Leo at bay. Her stomach was swelling quickly, and Desmond even sang to the unborn avian. It had taken a little while for Altair to let go of the feral territorial instinct, but really, he was hopeless when it came to taking care of anything. Especially when Adha did come to term.

The whole flock was pulled out of the collective, clinging depression almost instantaneously. It was the one good thing that happened to the flock lately, and Desmond took to the child like no other, and he was damn good at it. When and if Adha allowed it, he took the fledgeling everywhere, cooing soft songs at them.

Desmond declared the fledgeling as 'Saleem,' and said that he was just as much a warrior as Altair. This he said a few times as if he was incredulous that no one else remembered - aside from defending that he wasn't naming the child, but that was the name. Avian children grew quickly, something that Leonardo was in every way incredibly interested in, but Desmond was wary of letting him spend time with Saleem, with or without Adha's permission.

Altaïr was watching Desmond play with his son on the floor. Adha was lying next to Altaïr, napping, since Saleem had been so fussy last night and Adha had stayed awake so they could get some sleep since she knew Desmond would take care of their son if she slept. Better than Altaïr would. Saleem was probably the only thing on the planet Altair loved; but that didn't mean he knew how to take care of a baby. To put it bluntly he was a horror even when he tried, and he did. Desmond or Adha usually gave him a look when he fucked up and fixed whatever Altair had done. So now he mainly just played with his son and let Adha and Desmond do the stuff Altair was bad at like making him giggle or giving him baths or rocking him to sleep. Altaïr still got tasked with diaper duty though because clearly they had it out for him.

From the floor Saleem laughed and batted at some blocks he and Desmond were playing with. He'd been a but uneasy when Desmond had tried to name their son but Adha had told him to shut up and agreed with Desmond. So, Altair had just agreed with them.

He perked up, "You hear that?" Altaïr asked. It had been a momentary blip sound, like an old fashion radar blip. It was another one of those not sounds sounds like when Bill had tried to clip Desmond's wings. He'd felt it briefly in his bones before it was gone again. Saleem knocked over some more blocks and chirped and cheeped at Desmond.

Desmond's feathers rose, and he didn't really move for a while. When he did, he gathered up Saleem, tugging the fluffy, cherub-winged child into his arms. "Looking," he murmured. "Looking." He looked down at Saleem, and shushed him with a gentle cooing.

Adha woke up next to "They come," she said, slightly blearily. Then she realized what she'd just said. She blinked awake. "They come," she said again and sat up. Then she got out of bed and went over to Desmond and plucked her son out of his arms. "They come little one," she said nuzzling her baby adoringly, kissing his belly.

"Who comes?" Altair asked as he felt the ping off his bones again.

"You feel?" she asked Altaïr, looking at them, their son in the crook of her arm.

"The blip?" he asked, confused.

"Yes," she said, smiling. "Keepers looking. They come," she smiled down at Saleem who patted her face. "First new one you are, little Saleem," she kissed him all over again and Saleem laughed. Altaïr had been feeling anxious before but hearing Saleem laugh made him feel better. He knew Adha wouldn't let anything happen to their son. Whatever was coming... Was good, right?

Desmond pushed himself up, feathers lying flat again. "Relax," he said with a smile, leaning over to press his nose against Altair's shoulder. "They're looking for us." His wings twitched, betraying his excitement. "Take us home," he continued, trilling.

Altaïr made a concerned chirp of a noise. "Home where?" he asked as Adha came back to lay beside him, Saleem on her chest, flapping his tiny wings. Saleem wasn't like other avians. His wings had come in days after he was born, like they'd already been there, under his skin, fully formed, waiting to come out. She babbled at their baby as the ping went off again. "Can the others feel this?" he asked.

His only reply was a shrug, more with his wings than anything else. Desmond walked out to the railing-less deck, becoming a little restless. He could feel them as clearly as he felt the air against his feathers. The urge to fly to them was almost overwhelming.

Desmond folded his wings and pretty much ran back in, hopping up on the bed with a half opened flutter. "You'll remember," he said, wide smile all teeth. "It will be beautiful," Desmond continued, though the word was more like bright or glowing, "the city rose, Keepers brought it back." He was pretty much in Altair's lap, body absolutely thrumming. It was as if he was humming, but the sound came from his bones, and wasn't quite a sound but a feeling.

Altaïr frowned at Desmond and then looked at Adha. She was cooing gently to Saleem, sort of singing to him. Saleem was belly down on her chest, eyes closed, sleeping. She looked up at him when she felt his eyes, "Good," she said and ran her hand over Altair's knee and a bit through Desmond's hair. "Everyone will sing" and singing was rejoicing and celebration and togetherness, understanding.

"I don't sing," Altair said bluntly.

Adha laughed, waking Saleem. "Will with us," she said before going back to soothing her baby, rubbing his back consistently.

Desmond's smile softened. "You know it already," he said, reaching up to tap Altair's forehead. "Know here," He cooed, "feel here." Desmond's hand came down to his chest, and his fingers rested there.

His wings unfurled slightly, mostly so that he could actually sit comfortably, and lean against Altair while he gently whispered the words to the verses.

Altaïr curled one of his wings around Desmond. He could half hear what Desmond was saying and just tried to ignore the radar-like pings on his bones. He curled his fingers through Desmond's and made himself relax.

Nothing bad was going to happen.


	27. Sleep Apnea

It happened during lunch. Most of the flock were in the same room, eating, talking, and maybe ignoring the pings. Altaïr was. All at once it came over them, like a chill but not. Altaïr felt something calling to him outside the big window. Everyone had their heads turned to look and were utterly silent, the silence strange after so much easy talking.

"Anyone else feel that?" Rauf asked, breaking the silence.

"Yeah," Altair said.

"Here," Adha said, her lips pulling back in a smile.

Desmond had honestly not expected it to be so startling. Beside him, Connor flinched when he let out a cry. He didn't bother to check or ask, and got up, disappearing down the hall with a rustle of his wings. They were here. Finally.

Malik was the first to move and go after him, whereas Yusuf stared out the window. He did not have the words like Desmond did to describe what he felt, but he certainly felt the old, weirdly comforting presence. His fingers curled against Rauf's, not sure if he could actually trust the calm that nudged at his mind.

When Desmond returned, he went right past them all, avoiding Haytham and Ed because something told him he'd probably be hassled even now for breaking into the locked room and handling the artifacts but he needed to give them back. They had at least kept them more or less safe. He couldn't see them yet, even when he went outside, and that distressed him enough that he paced with his arms full.

"What the hell is going on?" Edward asked, his voice was surprisingly quiet. He almost sounded... Afraid.

"Keepers," Adha said and got up, holding her son. Saleem was sucking his thumb and looking out the window. "They come," and she went and followed Desmond. Altaïr followed her because he didn't know what else to do and he didn't want to let her out of his sight.

Rauf tore his eyes away from the window and looked at Edward. "What do we do?" he asked though he was sure he knew. Of course he knew. But he wanted Edward to tell him.

"I honestly thought that old buzzard just lied to me all this time," Edward said lowly and stood up. He looked at the members of his flock who were there, only Haytham and Ezio were absent. "The Ancients are back."

"I thought they were dead," Rauf said, feeling uneasy. "Right? They're dead."

"Apparently not," and he headed out. Rauf whined a little, looked at Yusuf, squeezed his hand and then followed after Edward, dragging Yusuf along with him. Whatever was out there at the very least none of them would be alone.

Ezio was drawn, unhappily to the rest of the flock. He had not taken well to the change in his physiology, and though that had been weeks ago, still seemed incredibly uneasy about it. For once, he was without a quick-witted comment, much the same as Yusuf, who was quiet beside Rauf.

"Are you... singing?" Connor asked, staring out at Desmond.

His lips were moving, but he wasn't quite making noise. Desmond's arms tightened around the artifacts and the response he made ended up more like a chirp. He looked back at the flock, and then out again, wings shuffling impatiently. Then, the voice welled up and he did sing, the words really only coming to him as they came out of his mouth.

Malik was, for lack of a better term, rather amazed. He'd heard Desmond sing before, mostly when he talked about the past, or specifically the artifacts and what they sang, but it was nothing like this. Nothing that made him feel like he knew the words, but it began to make sense to him.

Adha joined Desmond's song. In her arms Saleem started chirping and squeaking energetically. She looked at Altair who was frowning and rose her brows at him. He gave her a look in return. "You know," she broke off momentarily to say. Altaïr's mouth worked a moment but he had to agree. Yeah, he knew it. Adha beamed at him when Altair's baritone joined them.

Altaïr's actually turned in surprise when a deeper bass filled the air. It was Edward. His brow furrowed in confusion.

Stupid kid. Edward had spent years with Rashid. Learning from him, had tracked down each of the flock as children to add to their number. When he was young Rashid used to sing to him, before Umar had been born and when his son had just... been human he never sang again. But Edward knew this song. Rashid used to sing it all the time. It was like a lullaby, an old one and while Edward didn't know what the words meant he knew how to sing it.

Rauf bit his lips and swallowed, pulling his wings around him as he listened to the others sing. "What's going on?" he turned at the sound of Haytham's voice.

"I don't know," Rauf said.

"I didn't know my father sang," Haytham said. "What the hell are they singing?"

"It's a song about your mother loving you," Rauf said, "A lullaby for children," and he tried to make himself look smaller than he already was when Haytham and Yusuf started at him.

"How do you know that?" Haytham asked.

"I... I remember my mother singing it to me," Rauf said. He'd started to remember a lot more lately, things he'd thought he'd forgotten. Parents he'd never known, yet now could remember this, though he couldn't remember what his parents looked like. Never that. But the song. The song Rauf knew.

Yusuf folded his wings against Rauf's, pulling him even closer. His hand drifted over his feathers, wishing he could understand, could better soothe him. "Do you... not want to sing?" Yusuf asked quietly.

Connor was at a loss. It felt like there were words being put into his head, sounds he knew but couldn't place. They began to pull at his tongue and his voice joined the others. Ezio, on the other hand was just confused, not really taking to it, though just being there was honestly a little breathtaking.

Rauf hesitated. "I don't know," he said quietly. When they'd been in South America Rauf had grown the most auxiliary feathers and it was very clear that he was /like them/. The ferals.

Everyone else came from adoption homes. Kids with nictitating membranes, unwanted by their families for not being human. Rauf hadn't come from a home. Rashid had told him that. He hadn't been adopted into the flock and no doubt that unlike most of the others his parents had loved him fiercely. He'd come from a pair if wild avians. He was one still, though now a bit... Domesticated.

He licked his lips, feeling Haytham watching him. He didn't like to think about where he came from. He just wanted to be like the others, but the song was in his head and bones and splayed on his tongue. When his voice finally joined the others it was surprisingly high, nearly up there with Adha.

Ahead of him the golden feathers in Adha and Desmond's wings glowed a little. Then a dusky, purple, shape appeared in the sky. Far away. Rauf's heart jumped up into his throat.

It didn't seem like Malik, Haytham or Ezio would actually sing. Yusuf felt the tune, through Rauf beside him, but his mouth wouldn't form the sounds. He hummed and murmured instead.

Desmond's feathers stood up again, and his wings twitched out with a childish excitement. His voice raised to a croon.

Their singing had brought attention from the rest of the complex. Guild members were piqued, and no doubt, Leonardo was somewhere nearby, transcribing the phenomenon.

The shape in the sky got bigger and bigger. It was the size of a jumbo jet, maybe a bit bigger, but more like something out of a scifi show. It stopped moving a few hundred feet away and up. Abruptly all the avians stopped singing, but not from fear or awe, rather they'd been cued like by a conductor in front of an orchestra. Altaïr's reached out and took Adha's hand, squeezing it.

Then the song that played through them, an unhearable sound that rolled through their bones came again. This song was different though. It wasn't angry, but it was violent. Altaïr's eyes went into Eagle Vision, turning golden and he knew /exactly/ what he was supposed to do now.

When Altair turned and looked away from the flying ship, at the others of his flock, he saw they all were golden eyed. One by one they all looked toward the Guild compound. They all heard the same song, they all knew the same order. This wasn't just a comforting melody to remind them they were back and the avians were safe now that their keepers had returned, something not all of them could respond to. This was like something hard wired into their bodies. They all knew exactly what this song demanded.

It demanded death.

Edward was the first who moved and threw open his wings. A year ago all he could do was soar on thermals. But his wings had changed in shape and size and ability. Without missing a beat Edward was in the air, powered forward by his own accord he flew back towards the compound. Haytham hadn't been even able to fly a year ago. But their keepers always took care of them and made sure they could do what was needed. Haytham was in the air shortly after his father.

Altaïr's took off a second later, just in time for Edward to land on the open window of the Guild building. Edward had grabbed the first human he could and pulled him out of the window. He fell three stories, screaming most of the time.

Their keepers were back and the humans were fucked.

Desmond clutched the artifacts, the Apple in particular. He told Adha that she did not have to worry, she had Saleem to take care of. He left the other pieces with her, and launched into the air with a cry. Some small part of him was vaguely upset, he'd kind of grown to like Leo... as weird as he was. It faded quickly.

Adha frowned after Desmond. She hadn't realized he'd insult her so much. Damn dry skins and damn humans for being sexist even when they didn't realize it. They were all avian and Adha was just as much as any of them. She looked down at Saleem who was looking up at her, silent, eyes golden and then turned her eyes outward. All the others were in the air and very quickly the humans realized that their passive avians were now attacking them. Except one.

Malik was still grounded, and he looked angry. Of them all he looked the most human because he had only one wing and it was small and stunted. Because of it he couldn't fly. Adha went over to him. "Watch my son," she said and despite Malik's sqawk of protest she fit Saleem into Malik's arm."He hurt any when I come back I will pluck the skin from your bones," she growled and while she didn't know if Malik fully understood her she was sure his message was clear enough. She dropped the artifacts on the ground and jumping unfurled her wings. She was in the air in seconds.

Inside the Guild building it was chaos. Altaïr threw people out of windows when he could, just faster than to kill them personally. Others though he took the moment to watch them die with his hand wrapped around their throat. All the while the silent song throbbed through his body. He was powerless against it even if he wanted to disobey. But he didn't. He wanted to obey. He wanted to do this. He never thought he'd get to do this. His grandfather used to say that once their species has real purpose. Now Altair knew what that was; putting humans in their place. And they were horrifically good at it.

Malik growled, single wing flaring out. It was a useless gesture, and he was left standing there with the artifacts at his feet and Saleem cradled against his chest. He understood her just fine, the language bolting through him just as thoroughly as the order to kill had. There was a vague detachment from the realization that he would be culled for his uselessness. Malik wasn't so upset.

Desmond rended minds and bodies using the Apple in his hand as much as he actually physically attacked. In the narrower halls, the artifact was an easy, brutally effective tool. He knew that they would have found weapons by then, and in the face of firearms, found little deterring about them. Reaching out with the Piece of Eden, he turned humans against each other, feathers flared. It was a little strange to notice and feel Leonardo die, and his last thoughts of Ezio and Salai made him pause.

He looked back, and moved on, claws clicking on the floor. They would be done soon, he could feel the dwindling numbers and he almost felt bad. The Guild was completely neutral when it came to the stupid skirmish. Desmond was tugged back to the field when he realized he didn't exactly want to stop.


	28. I'll Find You Next

When the last person was dead the song abruptly stopped. With it the entire flock stopped, no longer driven by bloodlust and command. Once again they became passive. Altaïr's hands were covered in blood and when he looked down the hall and saw Rauf he saw so were his. He started when something bumped into him from behind. He twisted and found Adha, buried in his feathers, humming deep in her chest happily.

A new song started, calling them back out of the building. They went because they were designed to obey. Few thousand years without the ancients around, adapting to new environments and in less than an hour it seemed they were back to how they should have been. Back to obedience. Normally Altair would balk at obeying. But he wanted to. He wanted to obey.

The ship had landed outside the Guild building, which really was barely different from the Farm, out in the middle of God damn nowhere to protect itself from a world mostly fallen apart killing itself. Most factions had buildings like these, to keep their people safe.

As the flock was flying down from the windows the ship opened up. A moment passed as the gangway came down and the rest of the flock landed, Adha going to collect Saleem from Malik. Then a figure came down from the ship. They were tall and looked humanoid but their face was far too angular, their eyes slanted in a way humans weren't. They wore a black leotard like thing with golden curved lines across it and had black hair.

They walked towards the flock. Adha bounced her son in her bloody arms, the baby squirming. She cooed, shushing him gently. Then the ancient stood before the flock, they were as tall as Desmond, meaning they were freakishly tall by human standards, and was face to face with Edward.

"You did well," they said to Edward.

Edward swallowed, he was still surprised over what had just come over all of them, and a little afraid. Only a little though because it felt /so right/ to do what they'd just done. "We were trained," Edward said.

The ancient smiled, it was a nice smile, kind and warm and loving. Then he pulled out a device with glowing buttons and put his fingers over three of them. An audible song started to play. "Let's go home," the ancient said, the song amplifying that. Then the ancient turned and headed back for the ship, the avians followed, because they wanted to, the song calling to them. Saleem chirped and flapped his wings as they got onto the ship, like he was trying to sing with the device the ancient had.

Desmond watched them all walk past him, and fell in behind them, artifacts in his arms. He returned them, and did not look back. It didn't cross his mind that the Farm would have been all but destroyed - Lucy, Clay, Becca, it didn't matter. He watched Ezio, who'd straightened up and lost his unsettled demeanor. It was strange to finally see them slip back into the selves Desmond remembered, completely without the human aspects they had all picked up.

He wondered why his guilt clung so steadfastly.

In the ship, he could sense other Ancients, but not his, and couldn't stop the soft warble in his throat, wings shuffling.

The ancient led them all into a room as the ship took off, Altair was agitated. Not with distrust, but he felt a strong pull to leave, to go elsewhere in the ship. Where exactly he didn't know but he knew he'd find what he was looking for there, even if he didn't realize he was looking for something. When the door closed behind them the song cut off, the ancient turned to them. He had clear, yellow, eyes like butterscotch tablets.

"I'm glad we found you," he said, his accent was strange. "My name is Thor, I'm an angel specialist."

"Angel?" Haytham asked.

"Yes, of course. You all."

"That isn't what we're used to being called," Haytham said.

Thor gave a snort of contempt, "Yes, of course. The humans would have you believe your species is called avians. Avians is not what you are. Avian is our word for genderless. I believe some humans also believe themselves to be genderless. If they were they would also be avians. No, dear boy, we did not call you avians. You are angels. Which is of course why all humans, when they talk about real angels in their 'holy books', think angels are vengeful beings sent from a higher power. And why things like sphinx and harpies are in your mythology. Winged beasts always trying to kill the humans," he smiled, satisfied, "Exactly how we wanted you."

"What happens now?" Edward asked, the ship was moving, going somewhere.

"We're going to go home, get you cleaned up, remind you of what you've clearly forgotten, and return you where you belong. It will be at the digression of your Keeper what happens to you after that. I assure you though since unlike most of the others we've found you have less feral instincts, that you are not our slaves. You're our helpers, or soldiers, and sometimes our most prized possessions. You'll want for nothing, and for some of you there will be little change in what you're doing now to what your keepers will ask of you. Now if you'd all like to sit we'll be home in about an hour. If you need anything you can let me know," Thor said, still smiling, still nice. They sat on the floor, since the chairs were backed and thus uncomfortable.

Thor came over Adha and Altair. Adha had Saleem in her lap. Desmond was on Altair's other side. Thor looked at Desmond, looked at Altair, them Adha, then back to Altair. "They yours?" he asked.

"Yes," Altair said, rather passively.

Thor seemed pleased, "Good," and then he went to the door, "If any of you need anything someone is right outside. Tell them," and them he left.

"Is anyone else totally weirded out by this?" Rauf asked once he was gone. Clearly it wasn't that he distrusted Thor, it was just a lot of information to take in all at once and was no doubt slightly bewildering.

Yusuf leaned against Rauf, "Did you know anything about this, Desmond?"

Desmond shook his head and turned more toward Altair. "Not really," he mumbled, idly picking blood from Altair's feathers. The process worked to calm him a bit, but he was beginning to worry that he wouldn't lose the parts of him that thought he was somehow still human.

"Isn't it just better not to ask questions?" Ezio glanced at Rauf, brows raised somewhat. He did not have a smart comment to respond with.

"Clean the blood," Desmond said after a while, a lot more clearly than the first time he spoke. "It isn't good to leave it there." Though he'd stopped cleaning Altair, and kind of just rested his forehead against his shoulder.

Rauf turned into Yusuf, still feeling overwhelmed. He pressed his head against Yusuf with a whine. He just wanted things to be better. Or maybe go back. But also... Didn't.

"Are we going to be separated?" Rauf asked them, though he didn't know if he wanted an answer or not. "Cause as much as you guys piss me off or annoy me sometimes... You're my family. I don't want to be alone."

Desmond looked back at Rauf. "Maybe... But they won't let us become unhappy... They never have." He glanced at Yusuf. "We... find each other. It doesn't always make sense, but Altair and I have, as far as I can remember." He didn't really remember Rauf and Yusuf much, not together but the way they interacted made him feel like they were just as much a pair.

Yusuf blinked, tipping his head somewhat. "You mean you find Altair?" He didn't quite understand it, but the way his fingers tightened a bit and sought out Rauf's hand said that he wouldn't leave Rauf alone if he could help it.

"There's... a lot that I just can't remember. Gone." He didn't feel like he had been particularly invested in the others' lives, but he knew that they all at least knew each other on some level - it was why they worked together so well. Aside from avians - Angels - being drawn to each other or remnants of their past, it seemed like they were drawn to specific others, like... a flock but organized in a... battalion almost. Desmond got the feeling he didn't always fight.

"Well, at least that's something," Rauf said, squeezing Yusuf's hand tightly. He nuzzled him. "What does Adha always say?" he asked himself, so only he and Yusuf could hear. He thought a moment, "Oh right. Mine," and he kissed Yusuf on the cheek. He didn't care what happened. No one was taking his Yusuf away from him.

"We'll be fine," Edward said. "Rashid used to tell me. Like they'd been alive. Whatever they want from us we already did for the humans. And our keepers apparently are much better at keeping us stimulated," since really they were bored a lot, kept inside, out of sight. There weren't a lot of things for them to do and Edward was sure that was half why his flock fucked and fought so much: they were bored.

Yusuf smiled, laughed even. He folded his wings around Rauf, just enjoying his company in the pseudo removed space.

Ezio looked up from where he was working at his own feathers. He was still trying to figure out the different things going on in his head, and even with the flock around him, couldn't shake the feeling of being somewhat alone. He didn't voice his concerns, mostly just watched Connor edge a little closer to Haytham and Edward. He and Malik were really the only ones alone, but were probably just as wrapped up in trying to wrap their minds around the abrupt change in their lives. It was in no way subtle, and was an excessive amount to grasp, much less begin to understand.

The space was mostly quiet, save Saleem's chirping and peeping, and Desmond and Adha's soft cooing responses to the child. There was a heavy, nervous anticipation that reached all of them. They were going home, really home, and many of them didn't quite remember what that home was like.

Malik approached Altair some time toward the end of the flight. "Altair. I need you to do something for me." He stood, hardly jostled by the ship as it moved. "They are probably going to kill me. You have to do that, I don't want to die by another hand."

Desmond looked away.

Altaïr wasn't the only open mouthed stare when Malik said. That. And said it so bluntly too. Just like that he asked Altair to kill him. "W-what?" he stammered, he never stammered. But this was serious. Malik had been basically his only friend growing up and they'd faced everything together from Abstergo to rogue mercs to their own sexual frustrations. They were always a team, even after Malik got hurt, lost his wing and could no longer fly.

He stared at Malik. He tried to grasp /why/. Well really, he knew. The ancients had tested them against the Guild. Make sure they were fit to fight, fit to kill and fly. Malik was not. He was missing an arm and a wing. No way he was 'fit'. They'd kill him. Probably like you would a beloved dog. Painlessly, chemically. Malik was asking Altair to kill him. Because he didn't want to be a check mark.

Altaïr's mouth worked, everyone was staring at him. He didn't want to. God he didn't want to. Malik was his friend. He cared about Malik as much as he cared about himself. But he doubted Malik would be alive long after they'd landed. "I will," he said and stood up.

"Altaïr you can't-

"I can, and I will," Altair snapped at Haytham, his wings opening. "He should get to choose how he dies and if that's by me than I will. He's my friend and one of us: he deserves nothing less," Haytham didn't object again.

Malik relaxed somewhat, and actually smiled. "They might be important to us, but I don't remember them or know them like I know you." He reached out, grasping Altair's upper arm.

"Come back soon," Desmond said, gaze moving back to Malik. "You should... wait until you meet your Keeper first," he continued, "they'll let you die how you want... you have to meet them so you know who... to find."

He didn't like the incredulous look Malik gave him. "Would you honestly just believe me for once? I haven't been wrong about this-"

"I don't know what I believe right now, Desmond. Even after everything you have told me." Malik sighed, a little more than exasperated with the kid right now. "I just know I don't want to die by the hand of something I don't know."

"Ignore him, he talks a lot," Altair said and put his wing in front of Desmond, dismissing what he'd said. This was Malik's choice. No one else,avian- angel, or ancient should be allowed to make it for him. "You're sure about this?" he asked and Malik nodded.

Altaïr took a steadying breath. "I'm not looking forward to this," he said softly. "But I promise, I'll make it quick."

Desmond growled, and rather pointedly looked away.

"Thank you." There wasn't a need for him to apologize, or really thank Altair either. Malik couldn't let Desmond's words get to him. His breathing mirrored Altair's for a few moments as he gathered himself.

Altaïr knew the rest of the flock was watching them. Waiting. He took a deep breath and put his hands on either side of Malik's face. "I'll find you next time," he said too softly for anyone but Malik to hear. Desmond talked about reincarnation shit a lot. He hoped it was true. Then he kissed Malik once on the lips and twisted.

He broke Malik's neck like it was particleboard.

Altaïr caught Malik's body when he went limp and brought his wings up, over the both of them. Concealing them as he crouched slowly, Malik with him. Altaïr was trembling and it became clear to him a moment later he was crying silent tears. He'd just killed Malik. He'd just killed his best friend. He pressed his face into Malik's still chest and kept his wings over him. He didn't want the others to see. Not that he was ashamed. He just wanted to mourn what he'd had to do alone.

* * *

END PART TWO


	29. Part Three: Disconnect

PART THREE

Sleep Latency

* * *

Time was a relatively unaccounted for commodity. It passed, or rather did not seem to pass like it used to for the flock. Dying wasn't a horrible one-time last chance, it meant a renewal. Desmond had gone through it a few times, much less than some of the others. When they weren't putting humans back in their place, they were rebuilding, teaching and learning.

The Farm hardly looked like the closed compound it once was. The huge, sprawling city that had been hidden below it was unearthed and took its place. Buildings, roads and canals were restored, and the population of angels flourished. There was a controlled population of humans, of course, a lot more amicable than the ones from the past, but just the same, there were others that still existed outside of the Great Civilization who stubbornly clung to old ways and twisted stories of the past.

The avians themselves were no longer quite the feathered humans they once appeared to be. Aside from some lingering memory glitches, most of the Ancient's angels were back and functioning exactly as they should be.

Most humans outside of the Civilization were small bands of people who kept to themselves, did everything they could as to not draw the attention of the risen Ancients or their angelic soldiers - even their pets were just as deadly as their legions.

Desmond was restless, much preferring to be fighting beside Altair rather than staying by his Keeper's side. They had been preparing for a final assault. Abstergo was all that remained of organized human groups that refused to let go of their misguided supremacy. He was not sure when they would make their move, but he did know that they were fast approaching their peak, and that the Ancients were fed up with the constant bother that was the remaining Templars.

He spent a lot of his time watching the others train, but obediently stayed clear. Desmond developed a habit of waiting for Altair, and after, if he was not too tired, flying with him. His Keeper kept him meticulously groomed, and Desmond never passed up a chance to ruffle his feathers or get a little dirty. So he waited patiently, eyes tracking Altair midst the others.

Altaïr grunted when he threw Malik to the ground. The other angel groaned a little. Altaïr grinned down at him, "Losing your touch, Malik," he said. "Maybe I'm going to start winning more often," because nothing pissed Malik off like reminding him that Altair was getting older, getting better. Malik wasn't his mentor anymore and one day Altair was going to beat him consistently instead of once every now and then. He let Malik go and stood up, offering a hand.

Malik took the offered hand, but kept himself grounded in case Altair decided to throw him again - it wasn't unheard of, and was one thing that was quickly becoming a favorite prank. "Whether or not you are good enough yet is for Rashid to decide, and ultimately, the Keepers," Malik reminded him, taking his hand back and fluffing out his feathers. There was no sound as he flapped his wings out, only when he folded them and the feathers rubbed against each other.

The silence of his wings was a favored, though rare trait among the angels. Kadar had the same type of feathers, but he was not a warrior like Malik, and though they were not exactly siblings by parent, had the habit of treating each other as such.

Malik's dark eyes met Desmond's and he glanced back at Altair. "Desmond is there," he said.

Altaïr's eyes went to where Malik was looking. "Yeah, and?" he asked. "He's always there," Altair shrugged, "tell me when you see something interesting," he said. The older angel was around all the time but Altair didn't know him well. Sometimes he joined Altair in a course but that was it. And he always stepped away from outside his kept home to come watch Altair.

Like most angel soldiers they kept his memory carefully regulated. He remembered what he needed to remember to make him more effective. Soldiers died too often to have them need to worry about past lives beyond skills. Altair knew once they were allowed to live in peace and the humans stopped poking the mighty bear that was their Civilization and the war was over he'd be privy to all his past lives again.

Their Keepers left the humans alone so long as they were left alone in turn. Humans apparently didn't like being second best on the planet anymore. The war had been going on nearly fifty years or so. Enough for Altair to have burned through two lives before this one. His Keeper wanted to keep him alive longer than his last life. His memories were carefully controlled. If he knew Desmond he didn't remember and the older angel just acted like they did. It was sort of annoying.

"Ignore him. Wanna go again old man?" he smirked at Malik. Malik wasn't old but Altair took his shots where he could.

Malik made a face. "I thought you might have wanted to fly a course." He shrugged, smacked Altair with his wing, and then leaned a bit closer. "You want to see an old man, just go find Rashid," Malik hissed, but took the invitation for another sparring match.

Desmond didn't like that Altair's keeper was being stingy with his memories. He'd already gone through three lifetimes of Altair not remembering who they, together, were. He understood why, but he was tired of being mated to him in a manner that felt so utterly mechanical. The worst part was that Desmond might not have had a problem with it if he hadn't developed the more human feelings toward Altair before the Ancients returned. And besides, Altair was violent (yet Desmond refused another angel to be paired with).

If he could have slouched, he would have, but instead folded his wings around himself. Well, some lifetimes Altair remembered more, and others less. When he finally remembered everything, Desmond would not let him live it down so easily.

"Honestly I just humor him," Altair said, deflecting a punch Malik threw. "I got more important things to be worried about than some pretty little pet angel," he kicked, Malik blocked and Altair followed it up with using his wings. "Like finishing this training before the assault. I don't want to be kept out."

"He brought all of this back," Malik responded, narrowly avoiding Altair's wing. The edges of his feathers still clipped him. It wasn't like their history was a particularly important part of what they learned or remembered. "But you do have other things to worry about."

He jabbed at Altair with both his fist and his wing, a move that could ultimately decide the outcome. If blocked properly, Malik would be wide open.

Desmond couldn't hear them, but he knew they were talking, and it bothered him. His feathers rose, and he was sure they were talking about him ever since Malik's gaze met his for a few moments. He grumbled. Honestly, he could fight just as well as they could. So he didn't get to spar like they did, not out here, but he still trained - mostly because it kept him from getting outrageously bored.

He looked toward the training weapons, and then back at Altair and Malik. Resolved, Desmond got up and picked a couple of bladed glaives from the racks, and waited patiently out of the way with them. It might have been a little more in his favor with weapons - angels that fought were physical, better with hand-to-hand rather than using tools. It might have been a little cocky for him to pick actual weapons as opposed to the dull, training versions.

Altair blocked, and it was only as he did that he realized his mistake. He'd left his middle open and Malik took advantage of it. Altair was on his back in less than three seconds. Altair groaned, shit that had hurt. He looked up at Malik who had a shit eating grin on his face. "Eat it up old man," Altair grumbled and took the hand Malik offered him. Malik hauled him to his feet. "Never going to be gentle with me are you? You know I'm a delicate flower Malik-" then he saw over Malik's shoulder.

"Careful there," Altair said, looking at Desmond. "You'll hurt yourself," though it wasn't a nice reminder. Desmond was a kept angel who was good at singing, looking pretty, and having babies. Altair thought that while the humans were still trying to fight them that angels like him were useless. Useless angels deserved to be culled.

His feathers bristled even though he knew Altair's attitude was only because he did not know any better. Dealing with those who fought was like dealing with children. Desmond only jerked one of the glaives toward Altair, gaze hard. He couldn't even talk to him about the past - it could affect the blocks set in place.

Malik resisted the urge to whistle - it was plain to see how angry Desmond was. He also refrained from telling the older angel that the emotion would get away from him. While Desmond did not exactly teach weapons, it wasn't as if no one was unaware that he was, at the least, rather skilled.

"Fight me." His Keeper wasn't around to make him heel, and Desmond wanted to work off the frustration more thoroughly than flying - because Altair always made stupid, rude remarks even then. Which he never remembered making.

Altair looked at Malik, he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Yeah sometimes Desmond hung around and bothered him, but he never went so far as to think he could actually challenge Altair. When Malik didn't tell him to say no- because he would listen to Malik. He was a soldier after all, a good one, who listened, even if he was a little cocky- he took the held out pole arm.

He spun it with one hand lazily before stepped back into a fighting stance holding the glaive in both hands. "Okay songbird. I'll fight you. Don't go running home to your Keeper crying when I trounce you though," he smirked.

Desmond closed his eyes, and took a breath, trying to ease the irritating comment and let it slide from him, along with his anger. When he opened them, he'd slipped into Eagle Vision. He tapped Altair's glaive to signal his readiness. A lot of the beginning was feinting. Feeling Altair's response and style out.

Then, he went on the actual offensive, lip drawing back over his teeth as he aimed for Altair's side, pushing with his foremost arm while he pulled with the other to curve the blade through the air.

Altair was there to counter him. To be fair he wasn't the best with ranged weapons like this. He preferred his own hands, or a knife, or a sword even. He didn't like guns, or ranged weapons. What was the point? That didn't mean, however, that Altair couldn't use them. He could use anything you put in his hands.

Once he'd let Desmond have his fun he started to attack. He moved easily between his attacks and kept very purposefully tapping the butt of his glaive to some part of Desmond. Really he didn't want to hurt the angel. He'd get chewed out so hard if he really hurt a Keeper's special pet. But he was also starting to get bored. Desmond wasn't bad. But he wasn't good either. Altair just toyed with him, and would until Desmond admitted defeat. Anyone who was watching them would just see Altair playing with Desmond. He wondered if Desmond knew what he was doing.

Altair's treatment really only served to make him angrier. Desmond snarled and drove the point of the glaive right at his chest. A piece of him knew that was the biggest mistake he could have made, but he could not have cared less. He was frustrated and it was a last ditch effort to be taken seriously.

Desmond couldn't even follow through with it. Whether or not Altair ended up blocking him, he faltered.

Altair saw the attack aimed right at his chest and knew he'd never block in time. Instead his hand shot out and grabbed the glaive, by the blade, stopping it.

He ripped the weapon out of Desmond's hands and in three seconds he had Desmond on his back, using the weapons to unfoot him with a flourish. He put both of the blades up to Desmond's throat. "You stupid or something?" Altair snarled, blood dripping down the length of one of the weapons. "You never go for a killing blow on the training yard," he was so mad he could barely see. Not that death was anything more than a minor inconvenience, but Altair didn't want to miss out on taking down Abstergo and ending this needless human resistance.

Scowling and feeling like a vindictive asshole because fuck that Desmond could have killed him, he flicked one of the glaives and actually marked Desmond's face. "There you go," he sneered, satisfied with the cut on Desmond's mouth. "Reminder of your dumb ass mistake," he said and raised his big dark wings a bit.

"It wouldn't ha-" The blade cut through his lip and he felt his breath hitch, "-ve... connected." Desmond pushed himself up, "Maybe you should think twice before pissing off a 'pretty little pet.'"

He wasn't intimidated by Altair's wings, and even opened his own to match. "It's because of angels like me that you are even around to fight your precious little battles." Desmond folded his wings, tucking the glimmering feathers back out of sight among the rusty reds and blacks. He reached out toward Altair's face, but didn't quite make his goal, which was the stubborn little scar on the other's own mouth.

"_Come back alive_, Alty." The words were far too old from his bloodied lips, and they were rushed as he felt his Keeper's call in his bones. The pet-name was a slip of his tongue, but it was too late for him to take it back as he jumped into the air and twisted to fly back to them.

Altair stared after Desmond with a frown and turn turned to Malik. "What the hell is his deal?" he asked Malik. "You'd think if he wanted me to remember something he'd fucking say it instead of all his cryptic bullshit," Altair scowled, in a bad mood. But then he had just cut open his own hand and it hurt like nothing else. After all, not even angels were immune to pain.

Malik really only shrugged with his wings. "He's not allowed to interfere with that." Not that others couldn't, it just generally wasn't a good idea. Mostly led to a lot of disassociation, if they were lucky. He grabbed Altair's wrist, opening his hand. "... You didn't have to grab it, you know, he was right about one thing."

He turned his hand a little, tutting. "Let me fix this up." Malik did not give Altair time to protest before pulling him along. Someone else would take care of the discarded glaives. The mere fact that Desmond had gone for a killing blow (whether or not with a battle ready weapon) was a bit unreal. Though it also went to say that the fact that he had faltered and didn't even meet Altair's chest proved that he was either too far removed from fighting and soft, or had no commitment. Malik chose to believe that he was soft.


	30. Mars

Desmond landed on his Keeper's open balcony with a flutter of feathers. He hoped that he could at least wash his face first - he wanted it to scar. However, sneaking around at over six feet and almost one hundred and twenty pounds of wing and muscle wasn't the easiest. Especially since Desmond's feathers always dragged on the ground unless he held his wings higher than they naturally fell.

"Doesn't matter if he was going to do it or not. Point is he used a killing move on the training area," Altair said, "If he was going to do something like that then I'm going to treat it seriously and give him grief for it for being a dumb bird," Altair said as he was led along by Malik to get his wound tended to.

Mars knew when her angel landed as soon as he did so. The song switched off, one she couldn't even hear herself, but was alerted to it by a readout. She let him do his sneaking around because he'd been down at the angel training academy, again. She told him not to. It just made it harder on him. Honestly it wasn't like she wanted him to be hurt having to watch his life mate ignore him. He disobeyed at least once a week and she let him. Really he was just doing it to himself. Eventually the war would be over and Desmond could have him back but her angel was so... impatient.

She waited a few minutes, to see if he would just come like she told him. He didn't. She could hear his feathers dragging along the floor. Then she called, "Desmond, what are you doing?" knowing he'd flich and look towards her office guiltily.

Which he did, without fail before slipping into the bathroom with a series of rapid clicks across the floor. "I want to wash up."

Desmond cleaned his face, and the cut, wincing a little at the pain. He hissed, and dabbed it dry, pressing on it until it stopped bleeding. He wouldn't try to hide it from Mars, and she knew not to make a fuss over it even though it would scar his face.

When he came out of the bathroom and went to her, it was more like a guilty slink than an actual stride. Desmond stood outside the office.

Mars looked up from her desk. "There you are," she said and beckoned him inside. "You did something bad, didn't you," she said with a slight grin when Desmond slinked inside, his head down a bit. As he got closer she scoffed, "Desmond, again?" she asked, frowning. "I go through so much work to see you right and now you have that stupid cut on your face again," she huffed. It was like she couldn't get rid of it. If one of them had it, the other would shortly after. It drove she and Veles crazy.

Desmond couldn't help flinching again. "I always have it from him." He met her eyes briefly, then looked away again. "It isn't like I went and asked for it," he continued, self conscious enough to partially cover his mouth. Not having the simple little cut wasn't bad or wrong exactly, but rather that it just felt a little better when he did have it. Of course, it didn't make him feel better about disobeying Mars.

Quite the opposite, really. And for the next few days, or possibly even weeks, he'd be the most obedient he ever was to make up for it. Desmond's wings shuffled, and he looked everywhere in the office that wasn't her face.

Mars sighed and rubbed her brows. Oh the things she dealt with because of her angel. "Of course you didn't," except last time he had and that was so fun to have been explained to. "What did you do?" she asked him sternly.

"I... challenged Altair," he said with little hesitation. He had learned that it was just easier to tell her what he did rather than try and weasel around it. Desmond fidgeted with the feathers on his arms. "I got angry, he wasn't taking me seriously and I almost hurt him."

"Desmond," she said sternly, normally she just overlooked him going to the training academy, so long as all he did was watch. He had his own training sessions with a mentor once a week to keep him entertained. "You challenged him?" she didn't wait for an answer, "You are not to go to the academy again. Understand? And this time I mean it. I'll have Rashid keep an eye out for you and if I find you've been there," she didn't finish her threat. Mainly because she didn't know what she'd do. She didn't want or like hurting Desmond but she only had so much patience for his disobedience. She could overlook him going to watch but fighting. Absolutely not.

Desmond made a face, but didn't really voice his objection. She knew that he would rather be fighting beside Altair than waiting to be bred with him - which would probably end up happening before he left. "I understand," he finally said, albeit grudgingly.

"Good," Mars said, still irritated with him. "Now go make yourself look presentable and not like you were just in a fight. We're going out," she said.

He nodded, "Where? How presentable do I have to be...?" Desmond was a little confused. Usually she'd just leave him, grounded, at home after he went off and did something stupid.

"Its a surprise. I set it up last week and your misbehavior isn't a warrant for canceling. Now go, we're meeting important people," she said and looked back down at her work, a cue that Desmond needed to leave and go do as he was ordered.

Desmond slipped out and went to his given room. He was never quite sure what Mars meant when she said he had to look presentable. Flicking his fingers through his feathers, preening quickly and getting them to lie flat. Some obeyed more than others, and it took a vigorous shake of his wings to really get them presentable.

He hoped that the loose tunic he had on would suffice - he couldn't find any blood stains on it. Besides, the open backed piece fit him well enough, not that there was anything he actually had to cover. Desmond was pretty sure that Mars just liked dressing him in these things.

"Desmond," Mars called a few minutes later, she was mostly dressed herself and she really hoped he didn't look too bad. Honestly he'd lived dozens of lifetimes as a human and still somehow couldn't dress himself. She didn't know what the hell was the problem. Sometimes it was like having a child. There was a reason she wasn't with anyone and had no children herself. Her brother had warned her of course, angels were just as bad as children. Not that she could take it back now, Desmond would seek her out every life until she eventually died and he was 'adopted' by a new Keeper.

He ended up trading it out for a definitely clean white one with gold threaded filigree. Desmond knew it was one of Mars's favorites from the whole collection she had either made or bought. He really hoped she wasn't going to put jewelry on him again when he came to the door at her call.

"Is this good?" Desmond asked.

Mars looked him up and down, "Its satisfactory," she said because really it was what she would have picked for him. He didn't look too bad. Still, she frowned, "This though," she reached for his face and touched his mouth next to his new scar. She could get it fixed, easily. But he'd just go out and either recut himself (she honestly wouldn't put it past him) or somehow (she didn't know how but she knew he would) get Altair to do it again. "At least you don't need a bath," she said, putting her weight on one foot. "You ready?" she asked.

"Of course," Desmond said. He was always ready when she was - otherwise, what kind of angel would he be?

"Good, lets go," she said and pulled out her scarf and wrapped it around her head to keep her black hair contained as she walked towards the door. Honestly she was a weirdo as far as her people were concerned. While she didn't like humans she found their culture utterly interesting and fascinating. She also liked their clothes. The other proeathans thought she was weird, a freak. But she also had a very important angel and herself was pretty important, so she 'got away with it' and it was why people didn't call her out when she wore dresses that were above her knees.

She grabbed her helmet, clasping it about her throat, and grabbed her keys. "Just keep up and don't do anything funny," she reminded Desmond as they entered her garage. Proeathans liked to think they were vastly different from humans, but really their species were very similar. The only real difference was the height and the sixth sense. There were several modes of transport in here but Mars headed for the bike. She put the keys in and the electric engine started to purr. Mars clicked a button on the handlebars and the door drew back so she could drive onto the street.

Desmond mimicked the sound of the engine for a few moments, mostly because it amused him. He honestly preferred to use the bike itself, but they probably weren't headed for open space. There was plenty of room for angels to fly above the roadways and walkways, and even with a full street, Desmond could see Mars and her bike. In Eagle Vision, she was a warm, more purple kind of blue.

That was how he knew that she was his Keeper, aside from the comforting pull toward her. The only other being that came close to that kind of blue was Altair. Desmond doubted he looked like anything special for him, though.


	31. A Mighty Need

He kept up easily with Mars and her driving, and landed beside her when she parked. Desmond's wings folded, kept up so that his feathers didn't drag.

"And here we are," Mars said, tugging off her scarf and letting her hair out. She reached over and smoothed Desmond's hair down, it didn't do much good. Honestly most Keepers just gave up trying to control their angel's hair. It was pretty much impossible with all their flying and what not. But she still sometimes tried. "Now, I want you to be on your best behavior," she told him," and she tugged on his haltered tunic to lay flat. "This is the home of Senator Scamander, so this is important," she said.

Desmond nodded, letting her preen and fuss with his hair. He couldn't hold back a soft, happy cooing while she did. "I will," he said, satisfied for the time. Desmond did not need to know why this meeting was set up, but he would make Mars proud.

"Good boy," she smiled at him and walked to the door. She rang the bell and a human answered it, "I'm here to see Scamander; he's expecting me," she said.

"Come in," they opened the door and Mars and Desmond came in. The human showed them to where they could sit and Mars sat in a backed chair, hooking one leg over her knee, the skirt of her dress riding up. She was wearing leggings, but an old fart like Scamander would still probably find it scandalous. The fact that Mars was in the position she was in was itself scandalous, but obviously she wasn't letting that stop her. There were a few stools for angels to sit on, all of them as well padded as Mars' chair. "I'll go get Mister Scamander," the human said, Mars nodded and jiggled her leg a little, she wasn't good at waiting.

Desmond had his suspicions the moment he smelled the presence of another angel. He did say he'd be good, but he sat with a thud rather than sitting normally. Sure, it was childish, but without speaking it would suffice to say he wasn't very happy about it.

Scamander entered first, expecting Mars to stand. She didn't, and his mouth twisted just a bit. "Daniel. I want you to come and meet Mars and Desmond." He was not very pleased with her attire, but made no comment. He turned, filled two glasses and set one beside her chair, and then sent his human maid to fetch something for the two angels. "Daniel, we talked about this." That, they had. He knew Daniel was a bit of a loose cannon, and besides that, was one of the most violent when it came to breeding. There were a few different kinds of breeders, and Desmond was one of the few that could deal with that. Of course, both Mars and Scamander were aware of the fact that Desmond was, quite literally, the pickiest angel there was.

"Pleasure, as always, to see you Scamander," Mars said, though didn't sound impressed. She was only here because technically the man was man was her superior so she had to make this meeting and come. She knew nothing would come of it but Scamander had insisted. He was convinced Daniel could impress Desmond. She doubted it.

Daniel looked back at his Keeper, "I wasn't doing anything," Daniel said, eyeing Desmond in a way Mars really didn't like. He got really close to Desmond, right up in his space.

"Daniel," Mars said mildly, "Look with your eyes, not your hands," she tutted. Daniel gave her a glare. She rose her brows at him. He scowled but moved away from Desmond.

Desmond's wings flared when Daniel got close. Normally, angels didn't have such a thing as personal space - they were social, and often rather tactile. He didn't like Daniel that close, and muttered something under his breath, banking on the fact that Daniel would not really know the old words.

Matchmaking wasn't usually such an awkward topic, but Scamander knew an irritated bird when he saw one. "I know you told me Desmond was hard to please - I believe those were your words," he said, really only turning his glass and not drinking from it.

Sitting stock still and avidly refusing to even look at Daniel, Desmond bit his tongue until he honestly couldn't stand the stupid look he was giving him. "You have eyelids," he hissed, lip curling a little, "use them."

"Desmond," Mars said sharply, "I said behave. Don't antagonize him," then she turned back to Scamander and took a little sip of her drink. She did her best to not wrinkle her nose. The humans also did one thing better than them. They had better vices, particularly alcohol, which the proeathans had never mastered like the humans had. Scamander apparently favored the strong human alcohol to the much more mild proeathan variety.

"I did say that," Mars agreed, jiggling her foot a bit. "My Desmond is hard to please. He would have me believe he's completely exclusive," and while she knew Desmond would hate her for this it was something that did happen with some breeders who didn't cooperate. "If you can convince us I'm willing to allow more... extreme force to make him behave," and she sent Desmond a look so he knew not to talk.

Across from Desmond Daniel smiled and showed off his wings a bit. They were brown and black and not pretty really. Not like Desmond's of course. Daniel was a soldier, they rarely had pretty wings. He didn't move them to threaten. He moved them to show off, though he didn't know if it'd do him any good. All Daniel knew was that he liked Desmond already and wanted to bend his wings back and get under that long tunic. All he needed was a word from his Keeper.

"You know where I stand on this. They make a good pair," Scamander only drank after she did, and spared a glance at the two angels. Really, though, it was up to Mars. He was already decided, and whether or not Desmond agreed did not matter much to him.

Desmond stared at his Keeper. "I will break his arm if he touches me." It would take a lot for Desmond to even consider, or close his eyes and take it. Apparently, the fact that the proeathan across from her was a superior was not enough. Mars didn't say that he had to agree. But she also did not say if he had a word in edgewise.

Scamander did not take Desmond's outburst well, and shot a scathing look at him. To Desmond's credit though, he did not flinch.

"You will do no such thing," Mars scolded him. "He won't touch you unless I say and if he does I expect you to be good about it. I know your feelings on this but maybe you could actually give Daniel a chance? Scamander was very forthcoming on him. You might actually like him," she said. Really though she wouldn't force Desmond to mate with someone he didn't like.

"Yeah Desmond, I'm not so bad," Daniel said trying to sound nice.

"You two go entertain yourselves. Scamander and I have more to discuss than just your matchmaking. Daniel, if you try anything with my angel I'll have you culled for a few generations," she said seriously. She gave Scamander a look, showing she was serious. Desmond was /her/ angel. Angels didn't mate without permission, because the population was set. Unless there was an angel in the soul reservoir all the fucking in the world wouldn't produce a child. No one was allowed on her Desmond without her express permission.

"Yes, ma'am," Daniel said and got up. He offered his hand to Desmond because he could behave. He would until he didn't have to anymore.

Desmond reluctantly took Daniel's hand and let him lead him out. The fact that he even touched him was a little surprising. Daniel, when he was 'human' really wasn't that bad - aside from making Desmond swear he wouldn't talk with the threat of physical violence (honestly Desmond was too busy saving his hide from Bill back then to worry about Daniel's repressed homosexual tendencies since they actually had sexes then). Of course he wouldn't remember any of that. None of them really remembered that they ever appeared human.

He tugged his hand back after a while, still rather fickle. "I know you aren't bad, exactly," Desmond said. "You just look at me like you are," he paused, not sure whether he should really ease away from Daniel or not even though he said he would behave. "Which is... normal," Desmond admitted after a few more moments. Sure, he was trying to see how he could more or less trick the other angel into doing something stupid just so that he'd have an excuse to retaliate. Daniel didn't need to know that.

Daniel frowned at him, "I'm not a bad guy," he said, kinda irritated. "You might enjoy this though," he said and while he didn't touch Desmond again he did wave his wing at him to tell him to follow.

Really he had very little experience with non soldiers. He very rarely had a successful matchmaking session because he could be kinda... rough. Not that many breeders could handle someone like him and the ones that did were usually already taken and their mates were often freakishly possessive of them. Not that Daniel blamed them. If this went well he wouldn't want anyone near Desmond either.

His Keeper had really told him what to do basically since he wanted it to be successful too. Daniel knew Scamander wanted it to succeed for political reasons. Mars had few allegiances and for a woman was wildly successful and powerful with an extremely important angel. He had no fuzzy feelings about the fact that some Keepers used their angels the same way humans used to do with their women; marrying them off for alliance reasons. Of course such matings weren't as permanent as human 'marriage' (he thought it was stupid even though the proeathans had a similar institution, Scamander was joined with someone else. But she wasn't his Keeper; Scamander was) but it could help with alliances.

Scamander had told Daniel to take Desmond to the big garden around the back. Not a place Daniel spent a lot of time, but his Keeper had told him Desmond might like it more than, say, the armory.

Desmond bit back the sound of disdain in his throat, but followed the other angel. In the garden, he was much more interested in looking anywhere but Daniel. It wasn't really a good way to get to him, and honestly, Daniel wasn't the most impressive angel he'd seen. "You shouldn't hope I'm going to say yes or anything."

It was more that he didn't want to be mated, but it had been a bit of an outrageous time since he'd last actually had sex. Desmond's instinct told him that Daniel wouldn't let him go for the rest of either of their lifetimes, and he didn't want that.

Daniel smiled a little, "I'm going to remain optimistic your Keeper decides otherwise," he said. Really though he didn't want to think about it. Scamander would punish him if he messed this up, maybe even kill him just for embarrassing him by not doing as told. "So, what do you think?" he asked, since if the matchmaking went through Desmond would be staying here for a while. He wanted Desmond to like it; all of it. Him, and his home.

"I think it's fine. That's what you want to hear, isn't it?" He decided he'd at least humor Daniel for a while. However long it took before Mars came and retrieved him so they could go home.

Desmond turned away, moving down the path. He assumed that it was humans that took care of and tended to the plants. It didn't smell like Daniel even once set foot here since bringing him. Not that it surprised him. "Are you going to go fight when they make the final move on the human organization?" He asked, crouching to look at the flowers.

He could see them just fine standing, but he wanted to pick at the delicate petals. Definitely tended to by human hands. Scamander wasn't the kind of proeathan to have the patience to, and Daniel wouldn't have the time to care about anything other than fighting, flying and fucking.

"I hope so," Daniel said, standing behind Desmond patiently and tried not to let what he said get to him. Scamander had told him a lot about Desmond, how he was so picky about who the hell he mated with and that sometimes he went out of his way to start fights with those who had matchmaking sessions with him Scamander had warned him about that. So he wasn't taking a bait. He would behave. "My Keeper has been keeping me close since I passed my final qualifications at the academy though. Have you ever been?"

"Not since I was bred with these feathers. Apparently I just make a better breeder than a fighter." Desmond shrugged. "Someone has to bring you back when you die."

He pushed himself up again, ruffling his feathers. "No one takes a breeder seriously," Desmond said, turning around to actually look at Daniel.

Daniel felt himself swallow and realized he was being tested. He could fuck it all up if he said something wrong here. "I wouldn't know," he said, trying to be careful. "I've had very little," none, "experience with other angel types," he admitted. Then he decided to just get off that subject. "Last life you were a soldier? Do you remember how to fight?" he asked.

Desmond tipped his head. "Of course I remember how to fight." He made a face at him, "You don't forget those kinds of things."

"I wasn't sure, forgive me," Daniel said, "I know some Keepers keep memories more regulated than others," like his. Daniel knew nothing about most if his past lives between his Keepers leaving and them waking. Scamander wanted to keep it that way too. He hesitated a moment and hoped he wanted stepping too far out of bounds since he had very little interest in the garden areas. "Would you like to see the armory? Maybe we could practice together, if you wanted," he moved his wings up and down in a shrug.

He brightened, almost smiling. Desmond hesitated, wings drooping visibly. "I can't. I already disobeyed by doing so today," he grumbled. Usually, he would, but he didn't need another pending punishment. His gaze slid away.

Desmond was tired of waiting. "Okay." He took Daniel's hand, more mindful of his talons this time. "Show me," he said with the almost-smile curving his lips.

Daniel was floored. Looked like he'd done something right. "What she doesn't know won't hurt her," Daniel said and led Desmond back towards the house but not into it. Rather around instead to a secondary, smaller, house. He pushed the door open.

Daniel lived here, rather than the main house. It meant he could make all the noise he wanted against practice dummies or whatever. It was also where the armory was. He veered right once inside to an already open door.

Daniel's armory wasn't anything spectacular compared to the one at the academy but he had a lot of weapons. No firearms or special tech though. Scamander didn't let him near that sort of stuff. "Here we are," he said.

Desmond's excitement was clear through his wings. His feathers rose, and he moved through the racks, "can I handle them?" He asked, fingers twitching as he looked back at Daniel. He looked like a kid in a candy shop, though the analogy would be wasted on both of them.

"Of course," Daniel said. Scamander was going to be so proud of him if he kept this up. Picky angel maybe but Daniel was going to make Desmond his if it was the last thing he did.

He ran his fingers along one of the swords, and picked it up, letting it balance in his hand. Desmond almost sighed, though it came out as more of a low cooing. "Mars is already angry with me for challenging Altair after practice," he said quietly.

"It could be our secret," Daniel said, coming up behind him and brushing his wing against the skin and feathers between Desmond's wings.

Desmond shook his head. "Not a good idea." He put the blade back, standing still until Daniel pulled his wing back. It surprised him somewhat that he wasn't adverse to his touch.

"I'm either a sparring partner or a mate, not both." He knew Daniel was just behaving to get into his clothes but Desmond honestly was sick of waiting for Altair. "I'm tired of waiting for him, and I'd rather have at least one fuck before you're all shipped off."

"Waiting for who?" Daniel asked and hoped he hadn't misstepped.

He blinked, head tipping to the side again. "My life-mate," Desmond said as if it were painfully obvious. "I'm even mad at him for something he can't control." His wings flicked irritably.

Desmond almost hated dealing with warriors too, they weren't allowed a lot of their memories, and it was like dealing with fledgelings that never grew up. Though he'd done plenty of dumb things himself, he was sure he wasn't as annoying to deal with. "Look, whether you want me just because Scamander told you to mate me, or you actually want me because /you/ want me, I know you're just listening to me because of that." He pressed his fingers against Daniel's chin, turning his face to the side slightly. "You don't even really want me, you just want to fuck me," he said, sliding his claws against his jaw.

"I guess you're lucky, because I just want a fuck. And I'm pretty sure Mars doesn't want me with you because she doesn't want to deal with your Keeper." If she couldn't get him near enough Altair, he'd take Daniel. There wasn't really any other choice the way he saw it.

If Desmond hadn't sort of been holding his mouth shut it might have been open a bit. He'd never heard someone say something like that before. Just deconstructed and tore apart what was going on. It was a bit over Daniel's head though.

He did understand one thing perfectly though. "Life mate?" but it wasn't really a question. No wonder Desmond was so picky. His wings fell a little. He'd never be able to compete. Even if it was just sex how the hell was he supposed to go up against Desmond's life mate? Someone he'd sought out through centuries and millennia. It made everything seem sort of hopeless.

Before they could continue though a sharp whistle sounded through their bones. It wasn't Scamander's whistle though. Meaning it was probably Mars'.

"Desmond," they heard her call from outside the house. "Where are you? We're leaving," and she sounded angry. Daniel wondered what Scamander had done. Clearly he had had done set backs with Mars like he had with Desmond. "Desmond!" she called again sharply.

"You should go to your Keeper," Daniel said and took the sword out of Desmond's hand so he could put it up.

A wicked little grin split his lips, and he pressed a shallow kiss against Daniel's mouth. It wasn't unheard of for Angels to do that, but Desmond rarely handed out a mutual touch, nevermind an actual kiss. Then, he slipped past him without so much as brushing his feathers against Daniel, and heeded his Keeper's call.

"He wasn't that bad," Desmond said, though he could tell that whatever Mars and Scamander spoke about ended badly. "His Keeper was, though?"

Daniel stared after Desmond when he left. The sword honestly was nearly about to fall out of his hands. Then he tightened his grip and put the sword away with a private grin (since he rarely smiled, even to himself). That had actually gone really well.

Mars was furious. "He's a lecherous man. We're leaving, right now," she already had her scarf over her hair and the helmet around her neck. "Sorry of you had fun with Daniel but I will not work with this... This... asshole," the human, English, word was the best one she could come up with at the moment when she was so angry she could barely see let alone think. Normally Mars was as even tempered as her angel, but push her too much and she was as wrathful as the god humans had named after her. If she had enough thought process she knew she could come up with some spectacular vulgarities to call Scamander. But not at this second.

"Go home. I'm taking the long way home," she told Desmond as they walked around the garden to the front so they didn't have to walk through the house. She for on her bike and turned it on. It purred. "If you're not home when I get there I really will discipline you, Desmond," she added. She was in no good mood right now. As she started to pull away from Scamander's house the man himself came out but Mars didn't even look at him and took off, knowing Desmond would go where she'd told him.

He whined, but the sound was swallowed up by her bike, as quiet as it was. Desmond raised and spread his wings, taking off from a stand still.

At home, Desmond waited for Mars to return, equal parts impatient as he was nervous. Exactly what about, he wasn't sure. He turned his attention from counting time to preening, thoroughly picking through his feathers. It had become part of a nervous habit that, if unchecked, ended up with him plucking feathers from his wings.

The wind had torn Mars' scarf off her head. Now she had lost her scarf and had had to deal with Scamander. She shut the bike off and went into the house. "Desmond," she called, feeling angry and frustrated and she just wanted her angel. She headed for her room, stepping out of her boots and flopped down on her bed with an annoyed groan. "Desmond, come here," she called again, too lazy to use the sounder.

Desmond was there, seeming to appear by her room, aside from the sound of his claws on the floor. He picked up on her turmoil of emotions, and cooed softly, coming up beside Mars' bed. She did not need him to talk, so he did not speak. Instead, he folded his wings and crouched beside the mattress, folding his arms at the edge of it to rest his head on.

Mars looked over at Desmond, "Remind me to never deal with Scamander again," Mars told Desmond with an upset frown. She sighed, "Come here," she said, beckoning him. She liked when Desmond was like this, though he was still long and lean he was much fluffier than usual and she liked cuddling him when she was upset. When Desmond climbed into bed she pressed against him. "So... how was Daniel?" she asked though was hoping he wouldn't have liked him. She'd told Scamander he could go fuck himself about the matchmaking unless Desmond said yes. "Or... do you want me to get in touch with Veles?" she asked, because Veles meant Altair.

He was quiet for a while, as if sorting through his thoughts. Mars brought up Veles - and thereby Altair - which made him really unsure. "He wasn't horrible," Desmond finally said, feathers fluffed. His wing folded against her side. "But of course I want Altair," he continued, almost grumbling.

"After... the stupid stunt I pulled I don't think Altair will deal with me." Desmond touched his lip, which was still a bit sore when he pressed on it. "You told me it was a bad idea to get involved with him while his memories were controlled, and now I'm just angry about it." His feathers pressed back against his skin. "I think I hate the feeling after it when I know he doesn't know me more than I hate the thought of being mated with someone else." He almost didn't want to say it, but leaving it unsaid would only let it fester.

"Ahg," Mars pressed her face into a pillow. "This is why I told you to not go to the academy," she said though she'd always known it was a futile endeavour to do so. "You knew he was just going to ignore you," she gave him a look, because he did. "I hate to say I told you so; but I definitely told you so," she said and pushed herself up onto her elbows a bit. "I bet he'd like you more if you weren't always getting your nose into his business at the academy. Hopefully next time you won't have to worry about that though," because then the last, stupid, unnecessary, human 'resistance' (because apparently they didn't appreciate being turned into second class citizens, most of which had more rights than most humansbefore the proeathans showed up).

She sighed and flopped back down, "So who should I talk to? Scamander, or Veles? Maybe I can convince him to give Altair enough so he knows you."

"I don't want it to affect him - I want him to come back alive this time." He fidgeted, not wanting Mars to have to deal with whatever atrocity Scamander actually was either. "What... happened with Daniel's Keeper?" Desmond asked.

Mars sighed angrily. "He threatened me," she said, "with his position, my job," she was starting to get mad again, "said he had authority to do all sorts of things. And I'm not entirely sure if he could or not. He wants me to do things for him, because of my training, and I told him to fuck off," she sat up and looked down at Desmond. "His first reaction was to threaten me with a demerit for being your Keeper and well..." she scowled. "I'm sure you can guess how that ended."

When they'd first started collecting their angels again there was a bit of confusion and backstabbing and manipulation about who got which angel and if they remembered their last Keeper. It was a giant tangled mess that sometimes they still had to deal with since some angels would be manipulated to not remember their full slew of memories. Mars was Desmond's third Keeper since his first iteration had been born before the fire species war. His first one had been old and died, the second had been murdered; they still didn't know by who. They'd tried to say Desmond wasn't hers and being who she was she'd thrown a firestorm (if you would) and made sure everyone knew that Desmond was her angel. Since then no one had tried to even threaten to say he belonged to any other Keeper. Mars didn't take kindly to others messing with her angel.

Desmond made a soft kind of warble in the back of his throat, and pressed even closer to his Keeper. "You're my Keeper, I won't have another." He wasn't sure why some proeathans seemed to think that an angel knowing their Keeper was linked to what they remembered when it was more of an instinct to find the proeathan who reflected them, and vice versa.

"I don't want him using you just because I want to get laid."

Some aspects of his lifetime as a human 'avian' didn't seem to disappear after all that time.

"Good," she said to both and ran her fingers through his hair. She knew he liked that. "So should I talk to Veles about Altair's memories or can you wait? He promised once this was all over that he'd get most of his memories back," a lot of Keepers omitted large chunks of their angels as 'human avians' memories. Just to streamline their learning curve and because most of it wasn't important. Mars usually let Desmond choose how much he wanted to remember. He wasn't a soldier so it didn't matter as much.

"I know that after Altair finishes his last tests at the academy Veles wants you to go over there before the assault," she didn't even have to say what for, she knew he knew. "Unless you don't want to at all? Then I could just 'stick it' to the both of them," she grinned because nothing pleased her more than pulling one over on two old men like Veles and Scamander. Also Desmond had taught her some human slang and she liked when she found an excuse to use it.

"I really just- I need a fuck, no strings attached, none of the politics." Desmond sighed, eyes half closed. "And even when Altair knows he shouldn't get totally bent if I'm with someone else once." He'd long since come to terms with the fact that Altair never really offered back what he gave to him. That was just how he was.

"It's just a pair for offspring because the able, mature angels are being sent off." He didn't intend to stay anywhere else but Mars' home for any length of time outside of actually fucking. Even though Desmond understood it, he wasn't as resolved as he sounded. As a breeder, his body had needs, just as a fighter didn't have the time for those needs, but to him, Mars was more important than that. And he knew the issues she had to deal with to some level.

"Hmmm," Mars said, still running her fingers through Desmond's hair which was more like little feathers similar to the ones on his skin but softer and finer. "I have some people I can contact," she said. "Not Veles and not Scamander because I'll be damned if I give him what he wants," which was of course Desmond and getting to brag about his angel being with one of the pickiest breeders in the soul reservoir. "Unless... you like Daniel?"

The feathers on his head rose after being pressed down by her hand, and he'd been making a soft, enjoyable noise up until Mars asked if he actually liked Daniel. Desmond's silence was as much an answer as any, but he did end up speaking. "I... yeah, a little," he said, and pretty much every feather on him pressed against his skin.

Mars couldn't help it, she sighed. She also pulled her hand from his hair and flopped back down on her bed, face up. She crossed her arms over her chest feeling annoyed. "So, I'll talk to Scamander," she said, though clearly wasn't excited about it.

Desmond whined a little, leaning his face against her shoulder. "It only has to do with Daniel." He didn't want it having anything to do with anything else at her expense.

Mars made an annoyed noise, not at Desmond, more just about how the hell she was going to do this so Scamander wouldn't 'win'. "Scamander's sending Daniel on the assault," she said, "Apparently people have been talking and calling him soft handed with him. I could set it up so it's right before it starts and all soldiers have to report for deployment," which would be a few weeks before the actual assault itself. Mainly to get everyone into proper fighting shape if they weren't and make sure they all worked well together and just logistics shit. "Can you wait a week or so?" since then Daniel might get one, maybe two chances with Desmond before he had to leave, definitely not enough time for a firsty like Daniel who, to Mars' knowledge, had only been with a breeder once; for past aggression.

He nodded, trilling low in his throat. As long as Mars didn't stress over it, he wouldn't feel as bad about it. Desmond didn't like putting her in a spot, nevermind the rock and a hard place that was Scamander and twisted politics.


	32. Why Would I Want That?

It would be weeks still before able soldier-type angels would have to report in if they had not been around the academy regularly. The place itself was more like a barracks, and some Keepers let their angels stay there if they pleased. Where nearly all of them had their memories restricted, what they had an abundance of was autonomous decision within reasonable, militant parameters.

Which, in itself, was actually rather simple - fighters really only did just that; a lot of sparring. On average they were well behaved, and respected the proeathans, especially their Keepers and commanding officer. There was little time to even consider sex, though plenty was known to relieve stress with a non-conceiving fuck. Personally, Malik believed it was a waste of time without a breeding partner, but it was definitely better to nip the curiosity in the bud before it distracted the younger trainees.

In all honesty, it wasn't a decision for Malik to make, since he wasn't exactly a teacher. Then again, there wasn't exactly a need for instruction, because the knowledge and tools were all there as long as a memory block functioned as intended. He mostly just kept the younger angels from letting their sparring matches slip from practice to play, but even then, two play-fighting angels could turn around and just as easily decimate a human squad. And probably still have just as much fun doing it.

Probably not the best, but as long as there was little actual violence between angels, between fighters or otherwise, it made little difference how thin the line they walked was.

Malik's temper had been trained out of him, or that was what his Keeper said. Tempers weren't trained out of angels, they were just controlled within the walls of the Civilization. Out there, against their targets, they fought like animals. An organized pack of intelligent animals, but still just about as ruthlessly as it were.

With a tray full of food for himself, and a second balanced on his upper arm so that he could grab up a canteen that was honestly more like a large jug, Malik navigated the loud and busy cafeteria. It was a right mess hall, similar in a way that he couldn't place, but assumed was just from his previous incarnations. The place was almost a mirror plan - if not built to compensate a lot of large sets of wings - to the one that once stood in its place under the collapsed, human, Assassin Order. Altair usually trained into their allotted lunch, and Malik ended up bringing food for the both of them outside more often than not.

The kid had a lot of drive, but doing all of that wouldn't make his hand heal any faster. Malik was real close to literally hog-tying him.

Altair looked down at his hand. It still hurt. Malik had told him if since he'd done it to make such a stupid point he wasn't allowed to get it looked at and healed up. Instead Malik had just disinfected it and wrapped it. Thankfully their kind healed quickly, quicker than humans at least. Accelerated healing was a blessing in the battlefield so that minor injuries didn't affect them like it did humans. After making sure it'd heal without effecting his grip or weaken his hand he'd been left to heal naturally instead of nearly instantly with a med station. The cut had scabbed over and even at just a few days it was almost healed up. By next week all this cut would be would be a scar. He flexed his hurt hand, to keep the skin limber, but it still hurt. At least it he'd grabbed it with his off hand.

He heard someone coming up to him and looked up. The Sword in his left hand lowering. He'd wondered where Malik had gone. His stomach growled abruptly, seeing that Malik had brought food. He didn't even notice he was hungry until he saw it. He looked at the plate Malik was carrying like a normal man would a woman... he guessed. He'd never thought about having another angel like that. He'd heard some older angels talk about their mates like that though, the ones who had them. The analogy didn't really work since all angels were avian. He didn't know why he'd even thought of that analogy, it didn't make any sense.

He had a very confused look on his face when Malik finally came up to them, befuddled about why he'd even thought about differentiating genders. Genders were things that happened to proeathans or humans, not angels. He made himself focus when Malik got closer and licked his lips, still insanely hungry. "Please tell me one of those plates is for me," he said, not even looking at Malik, but was staring at the plates in his arms.

"Not if you keep opening up the stupid cut on your hand, it won't be," Malik responded. He didn't quite walk all the way to Altair, and sat himself down by the rack of training weapons. "Birdbrain."

One of them was clearly for him though, since he set the other tray on the ground. "You should stick to using your hands - sure, they make us carry weapons, but you're much more proficient without them," he said, not bothering to look up from his food. What he said was true though, aside from it being less agitating for the cut on Altair's hand, and where Desmond had been pretty good with the glaive, Malik was rather well to do with it, and was even better with a sword in his hand. Altair was pretty masterful with whatever he was required to use, but Malik was unsure whether or not he noticed how his skill lagged with the nearly three day old cut.

"It's bleeding again, isn't it. You know it will only scar worse the more you fuck around with it."

"It isn't," Altair said stubbornly, it wasn't, it was just sort of red. He went over to Malik and hunkered down. He just ate with his hands, they ate mostly ate food you could eat with your hands. He knew house angels might eat with utensils but in the academy it was all hand food, or even if it wasn't you still used them. "And it wouldn't if you'd let me heal it at a med station," he said and pushed a mouthful of sticky rice into his mouth.

Malik shrugged with his wings. "You have had plenty of times to go on your own. Since when have you actually listened to anything I have to say?" He cast him a glance, and then resumed eating, pausing only to drink from the uncapped canteen. Licking his fingers, Malik sat back a little more, wings half folded. "Don't worry about whether or not you'll be going on the mission - I don't think even Daniel fucking something up would keep him off of the task," and Daniel had a knack for committing absolutely royally fucked up offenses.

"I dunno," Altair said and looked at his cut again, "I just haven't," and he wasn't sure why. He just felt like he shouldn't. Well, not shouldn't. More like he deserved it for... something? He wasn't quite sure what compelled him to not go to a med station but he knew it wasn't Malik. He wasn't about to admit that though. "And I listen sometimes," he pouted even as he sucked kitfo off his fingers.

He snorted at the mention of Daniel, "That guy might as well be a house angel," and smooshed the rice and kitfo together and popped some into his mouth with a grin.

Capping the canteen, Malik nudged it over to Altair, still picking handfuls from what little was left on his plate. "He isn't bad with the firearms, but aside from roughing up his partners, he's pretty soft," he mused midst picking at his teeth with one of his talons.

"Veles gonna mate you off in the next few weeks? I'm hoping I can get a nice, soft partner, at least."

Altair grimaced, "I don't see the point of it," he said. "Honestly the entire thing is just messy and awkward," or at least it had been for Altair. But then maybe it was because he'd only been with other soldiers. All in all there was nothing soft about soldiers. They were known to be hard and unforgiving and it hadn't been exactly... pleasent. Not terrible, but Altair didn't know why he'd do it again. Maybe it would be different with a breeder but Altair didn't see how, angels all looked the same physically more or less with only varying degrees of difference.

He took a sip from the jug, it was basically sugar water but tasted like berries. Or at least the COs had told them that. Angels had harder times tasting sweet things, so it was more mild than if a human had drunk it. "But no, he hasn't," he shrugged. "Though," he said thoughtfully, "he's been kinda weird lately when I see him, like he's expecting a message from someone. I'm not sure who though," he shoved the last bites of rice into his mouth and started on the last of the kitfo.

"All you've had is what's around - I keep forgetting you haven't bred anyone yet this cycle," Malik laughed, batting Altair with the wrist of the wing between the both of them. "Believe me, you'd love a sweet little breeder. They don't try to rip your cock off. Or argue about who's gonna take it." He pushed himself back to his feet, hopping a bit. "'Cause they're made for it."

He was astutely aware that the only real differences between the pets and them were their feathers, and where they appeared, and though he tried not to get lulled into the idea that they were really only 'soft' or 'gentle, fluffy, little breeders,' it was pretty hard. "You better not tell any of them that, and you better respect them because your dick really doesn't feel that comfortable. In any hole." Malik stared down at Altair, then stooped to pick up his tray.

Altair frowned at him, "I still think you're crazy," Altair said, "Hey!" he complained as Malik went to scoop up his tray and quickly grabbed the last morsel before it got out of reach. He popped the last bit of seasoned meat into his mouth and sucked on his fingers. "I don't want to deal with any little house angels," he pouted.

"You do," Malik answered, stopping to turn and look back at him. "Or rather, that does." He tapped Altair with his foot, motioning toward his crotch. "Get up, I'm not taking the canteen back, you are." He did not wait to see if Altair would pick it up and come along, he just turned and began heading back to the cafeteria.

Altair sighed and picked the canteen up. "I don't even like house angels," he complained and took a sip of the jug. Though really the only house angel he'd ever known was Desmond. He didn't exactly dislike Desmond but he also wasn't Altair's favorite angel. More he just sometimes freaked Altair out by always hanging around and staring at him during training and re education. Altair didn't like him around because Desmond sort of... stressed him out and made him even more intense than usual, and not always in a good way. He didn't know exactly why though and honestly wished Desmond's Keeper would keep him the fuck away.

Malik didn't respond, just walked back into the building to deposit the trays and find someplace quiet to rest until courses began in the afternoon. He had his own things to deal with, and picking through Altair's feelings about other angels wasn't on the top of his list. "You going home after training?" He asked, looking over at Altair.

"No. Veles told me to stay here unless he called," Altair shrugged and took another sip from the jug. "I want to do this," because he was excited about it. "Sooner they start the assault the sooner I get to fight for real again," because this would be his first real combat this life.

He had plenty of experience from his past lives and one of his favorite kills was actually when he was a human-avian. It had just been... so satisfying. He couldn't remember all the details but he remembered literally clawing someone's face off to protect someone. Someone important to him.

"And the sooner I can get all my memories," because he wanted those too. He wanted to remember. He wanted to know what he should know in addition to fighting and maybe also why Desmond sometimes gave him super dirty looks.

"I think a lot of us want that," Malik said, still walking. "Come on, let me see your hand." He grabbed Altair's wrist and pulled him along, out of the cafeteria, and kept going until it wasn't nearly as loud or busy.

They ended up somewhere near the dormitory building, and that was when Malik finally turned back to Altair and examined his palm. He tilted his hand, left, right, and then nudged the edge of the still angry mark with the pad of his thumb. "I meant what I said about using weapons though, you'll just tear it up. It won't mean much, but you have to be next to flawless when we are actually deployed."

There wouldn't be much time until the song was sounded to resume courses, re-education or training, and the anticipation of hearing it almost thrummed in Malik's bones.

Altair frowned, "Fine," he said, "I'll let off on it. Though I've been trying to let it heal on its own, just using my strong hand," though angel soldiers didn't really have a 'strong' or 'off' hand. They were all ambidextrous. But your 'strong' hand was usually just the one you had a preference for, nothing more than that. Altair preferred his right hand, but he usually fought with his left leading because it made him have to be better than if he relied on his strong side. It meant he was great with his left and flawless with his right.

"You don't have to baby me Malik. I'm not a fledgling. I lost my downy a long time ago," he added to Malik. Malik was his mentor, an older angel who helped younger ones remember what they needed to and helped them in general, not like a nanny; more like a drill sergeant in place of their actual instructors between major training blocks.

He let go of Altair's hand with another shrug, then reached out to clap his shoulder. "I know. I was there." Malik fixed him with a grin, then shoved. It wasn't a harsh push, but it wasn't a tiny little nudge either.

The call to bring them back to their stations sounded, and Malik groaned. Recently, he was helping Rauf out with the last of their youngest, and the older angel always wanted him there early. He thought it was to keep him as tidy and punctual as always, as irritating as it was. Though if they were expected to be militant and organized, someone had to enforce some kind of rules without relying on the siren songs.

Malik didn't bother with a full farewell, it was more of just his wing against Altair's side as he turned and left.


	33. Play Date

Adha hummed as she knocked on Mars' front door. As always she was perfectly behaved (which was more than she could say for Desmond) and only went out when Ogoun had told her she could go. He'd arranged for this 'play date' with Desmond. Really it was just an opportunity for them to both complain about their lives and mates; more specifically about Altair and what a giant idiot he was.

She had her cream and shiny golden wings tucked up behind her as she waited for Desmond or Mars to get the door since Mars didn't have human maids or butlers. Except for cleaning people who came by once a week to make the house spotless.

Desmond tittered happily when he opened the door, wings half flapping behind him. He'd been excited for Adha's visit, and all but pulled her in. "Adha," he smiled, just about singing. He called her by the older sound of her name, glad that he had someone he could talk to that actually knew the oldest words and the past in general.

He brought her to his room, where the bed was more of a nest, and what wasn't housing the clothes Mars got him was either displaying some kind of weaponry or plant. Mostly, it was because the flowers smelled good, and gave him something to do. Desmond let Adha settle a bit before he began preening her wings, focusing on the feathers on her back.

Preening was much more common, and if given the time, one of the first things most angels did when sharing each other's company. Often, Desmond talked, and he was nonetheless chatty today. "Mars is trying to do matchmaking for me," he was saying while he picked through the light, soft feathers between her wings, "but I don't... know what I want."

Adha twittered while Desmond ran his fingers through her feathers. "Well that's good," she cooed and reached to her side to squeeze Desmond's leg. "And what do you mean? Isn't she calling Veles?" and when she said it she said it a bit wistfully. Ogoun and Veles currently weren't on good terms and she probably wouldn't get to see Altair until one of them died. Though she was getting tired of Ogoun, he was getting mean. She didn't like having a mean Keeper. Next life she promised herself she'd think about finding a woman like Desmond had. Woman Keepers seemed nicer. "You know he'll come around Desmond. He doesn't remember me either and I had that ungrateful avian's baby the first time," meaning back when she was a human-avian.

He heaved a sigh, acting like it was a bigger one than it was. "I know, it still makes me angry, and I could have a chance to at least get a halfway decent fuck without all the crap attached to it." Desmond ran his hands against Adha's feathers until they laid flat again, and moved to sit by her so he could start on her wings.

"I told Mars that I don't know if I can stand it again. Altair kind of died a lot, you know." And by default, so did he - which set back breeding a little bit, but he was one out of a bunch of them. Mars had stopped him from doing anything stupid the last time, but to make up for it, Desmond had spent as much time as he could getting somewhere near Altair. The bastard was cute as hell when all he had was fluff on his wings.

"Well if you want that you know a soldier won't help you there," Adha said with a roll of her eyes. She offered Desmond more of her wing while starting on parts that she could reach, like on his legs. "Honestly most of them don't even know where to put it it's so sad it's almost funny," she giggled. "If you're so anxious," she ran her hand on Desmond's thigh, "we could," because where soldiers didn't know how to fuck it was all breeders did.

She'd seen two soldiers go at it once. She'd laughed at them afterwards because it was sort of like watching cats rut. There was nothing... pleasant about it. Soldiers were so dumb too and most of them were virgins. The ratio between the types was skewed harshly in favor of the soldier caste and all the variety of types in it. Like the soldiers and the heavies and the terras and many others that were only bred during times of war. Once the humans were fully dealt with the ratio between them would level out so it'd almost be one to one instead of one to nearly twenty. Most of them never mated with a breeder, or if they did not long enough for anything to happen.

On the other side angels like her and Desmond were supposed to be good at sex. And they had it a lot. Desmond less than others for sure but that was his own problem. Adha was also Altair's life mate (unlike humans or even proeathans angels could have multiple partners that spanned dozens of reincarnations) but unlike Desmond she wasn't so hung up on him. She blamed his last life as a human-avian. Adha would take care of just about anyone. Except ones that roughed them up. She didn't like pain and didn't tolerate her mates hurting her on purpose or accident. Desmond could take it but she was fairly small for an avian and would claw them up if they were too rough.

"I know you have all those human emotions about Altair," she tried not to judge but really he should just do whatever he could to purge those memories in his next lives. They got in the way. "But he's so horrifically unavailable. And you know he's going to suck," not even literally either. Stupid soldiers. "It'd be fun," and while she was a good girl who usually obeyed her Keeper, sometimes he just begged to be disobeyed.

He'd stopped preening her, and just pressed his face against the cream and gold feathers. Desmond made a strangled sound and jerked back when he realized he was starting to tug on Adha's wing. It was something about how she said that, how it would be fun, and he wasn't thinking about Altair or Daniel.

Desmond shuffled his wings. "You don't mean messing around with me, do you?" He wasn't exactly nervous, but his feathers twitched. "Keep it up and I'm gonna end up switching," Desmond continued, and tapped his temple. Even if it would only be a change in his mindset, it would affect his body and temperament for weeks, and totally negate any chance of mating with anyone.

"You're the one complaining," she said, "I'm simply making myself available. That and I know Ogoun would be so mad if I was anything more than friends with Mars' angel," her laugh was an amused trill. She tugged her wing from his grip, really she'd just preened with someone yesterday, there was nothing to do. Instead she lay down on Desmond's bed.

"So if you don't want to. What's the matter? No doubt Mars is going to call Veles eventually and you're going to get our little virtuous soldier to at the very least make an attempt."

Desmond let out a breath that he had not been fully aware he was holding. "I want to do something that will make him feel at least a little guilty when he finally remembers - because memory or not, on purpose or not, he hurts me. Like the rest of them, he uses me but he doesn't even try to hide it."

He tugged his legs up, holding his knees, and his wings ended up half folded around him. "At least Daniel didn't look at me like a broken tool the whole time," Desmond growled.

Adha sat up abruptly. "Daniel?" she asked, she knew Daniel, or at least had known him before he'd been culled for being too aggressive. She knew his mother. "You're going to mate with Daniel? Desmond, I don't think that's such a good idea," she frowned. "You know Altair cares about us. It isn't fair to blame him because you choose to remember from your last human life. He doesn't know any better," they both knew Desmond was being petty. Or Desmond better realize he was being petty. Because he was.

"I know. It's like wanting to pull my feathers, I can't help it. And it's not just the human memories, I've only had a different partner three times." Desmond closed his eyes. "It might make things a little harder on Mars... but she won't have to deal with Scamander if I do take your offer."

He opened them and glanced at her. "I'm the only one who probably can take Daniel's violence." Honestly, Desmond was weighing the options. Piss off Adha's Keeper and pretty much kiss any chance of seeing her until the old jerk died goodbye, or wait a while longer and have to deal with another encounter with Altair's amnesia, which always reminded him of the time he almost lost his fucking mind trying to bring him back, or Daniel. The worst thing was, Desmond didn't mind getting hurt.

"Just because you can doesn't mean you have to," Adha said and leaned over to him she wrapped her wings around him. "You don't have to have sex with jerks," she rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. "Like I've told Ogoun that if someone hurts me I'm ripping it off," and she meant it too. "He makes sure I get nicer mates," though really soldiers were only so nice.

"We both know you deserve someone who will make you feel good. And that Altair /won't/ but neither will Daniel," she cooed in concern.

She liked Desmond and knew all his woes basically. She was one of his friends, and knew where he was coming from more than others. She'd really liked Altair too. Last life she only got a chance with him after Desmond had, literally right before Altair had been shot in the head during an ambush. The both of them had bitched about it for weeks afterwards since Altair had remembered them that life. Now he didn't because Veles wasn't letting him. So all they could do was wait.

"Ask Mars to arrange for someone nice. Maybe," she sat up a little, the fine feathers on her head flaring up a bit, "someone older. Who's mated previously so they aren't so awful in bed. Trust me, you don't want a dumb soldier," and she knew from experience. Adha had had plenty of mates other than Altair. All the fresh soldiers were awful. Ones who were older knew how and actually made it kinda nice. Though her best time had been with another breeder. "Or maybe a breeder," she said. "Soldiers are so... Awful," she sighed and sort of laid down across one of his shoulders.

Desmond really only grumbled, slouching as much as his wings would allow, which wasn't much. "I know they are," he muttered, feathers twitching. "It's only because of the fighting, the humans." And if humankind was anything, it was stubborn. Irritatingly and unfailingly so.

Still, he sulked about it, and was intent on doing so until it was all out of his system.

"Yes," Adha agreed, "And soon it will be over and there won't be so many but we'll still have to deal with them," she sighed and leaned back. "Frankly other than hitting things the entire caste is absolutely useless. Without us they wouldn't even exist and they exist for no other reason that to hit stuff, sometimes that stuff includes us," she made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. "I don't know how you deal with it Des," she said. She didn't understand why he let them hurt him sometimes. She sure as hell didn't allow it. Even if it was Altair she'd sooner beat him with her wings rather than let him hurt her.

"Because I'm just as much one of them as I am a breeder," He said quietly, not quite able to look at her. Desmond flopped forward, half curling into his nest of a bed. "Do you... think it was a bad idea? Waking them up...?" His voice was a little muffled, face partially obscured by a pillow probably stuffed with his own fluffy down (why not make use of it, when he had it, there was a shitload to dispose of anyway). He turned his head to look back at her, tucking his chin somewhat.

Adha wriggled down beside him, "Do you think it was?" she asked back, _"Like better than tree living,_" she cooed in the old human-avian tongue. "_Dryskins had easy. Feathers not much. Hard,_" she frowned. Personally she liked having a Keeper and being important to someone though they were starting to not appreciate her as much anymore. _"I like now more_," she rubbed her face and wing against Desmond.

"I don't know, that's why I asked," Desmond muttered, huffing. He wasn't as tense when she touched him. "Your Keeper is a royal asshole... and they're just using the fighters like the humans used us - they're better at it, they know what we need, but they're... just like them."

"We are what we were created to be," she reminded him. "You know why they made us. It wasn't to be cute and cuddly. It was to fight, and to keep their slaves in check," of course humans weren't slaves now. They were allowed to do whatever they wanted so long as they left the proeathans alone. If they wanted to live in their city they could, but they were reduced to 'second class citizens' and could only get certain jobs. Proeathans paid more than most human cities though. The humans had ruined the Earth and themselves while the proeathans were gone, most of the world had gone to 'hell in a handbasket' as they used to say and humans were on the ropes all over the world. "I don't know why you fight so hard against what you are when before you fought so hard to become this."

He didn't respond aside from turning his face completely into the pillow. Desmond shook his head, groan muffled. "There's nothing else, I guess... that's it." He pushed himself up, all the way to his feet.

Desmond shook himself out completely, his wings flapping and feathers rustling. He settled down beside Adha again, cooing wordlessly while his feathers also settled.


	34. All Over You

SORRY ABOUT THAT CHAPTER IS FIXED! :O

* * *

Desmond didn't need to take much to Scamander's. He had a second tunic, but neither of them were his best, or Mars' favorite. In the end he had, against Adha's words, decided to agree to be paired with Daniel. As long as it wasn't the worst thing to happen to him, and Adha hadn't flicked the hormone switch in his body over the time they spent cuddling and preening.

Mars had come home that day to find Desmond and Adha more or less entwined in a bed of their feathers, trilling and cooing at each other.

He stopped by her office, mostly just to let her know that he was going, and then he flew off from the open balcony, holding his little bag of few things to his chest. Desmond didn't land in front of the proeathan residence, he went straight for the garden courtyard because he wanted to keep interaction with Scamander to the absolute minimum. If things went well, he could get what he wanted from Daniel within one or two days, and be gone just as quickly.

Daniel knew when Desmond landed as soon as he did. When Mars had told Scamander Desmond would be coming by the other day he'd been anticipating his arrival. He was waiting and excited. But was also incredibly nervous. He'd never done anything like this before, not for a few cycles at least.

He poked his head out of the door of his little house when he caught the bare whiff of Desmond. He licked his lips and slid out, he knew Scamander was probably aware that Desmond was here, or that he would be around. Scamander told him he'd leave them alone since a condition of Mars had said for her to let Desmond come over was that Scamander couldn't interact with her angel.

So he'd... get Desmond all to himself. His heart beat spiked a bit thinking about that. He would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous though. He didn't want to make a fool of himself. "Desmond," he called and slid out from around the door.

He shook out his wings, then folded them. "Daniel." Desmond moved toward him and the door, stopping a few feet short. "You're nervous," He said, "It's almost cute."

Daniel's wings fluffed out and he frowned. He didn't know how he felt about being called 'cute'. He was a soldier and was ferocious and a warrior. Up this close Daniel could smell more than just Desmond on the other angel. His frown deepened. "Why do you smell like another angel?" now his wings fluffed up in annoyance, even anger. He knew Desmond had a life mate but he didn't like the idea of someone else being that close to Desmond.

Desmond almost scoffed. "It's another breeder, you can't tell? Let me make a few things clear," His eyes narrowed, lip curling back just a little. "You are a breeding partner, nothing more than that. You have no place ordering me or hurting me, and I will attack you in return."

The scowl on his face melted, hiding his irritation. "I know for a fact you haven't had a partner in a while, stop acting tough."

Daniel deflated a bit, his wings sagging. "Right," he said and swallowed a little, realizing maybe he was a bit over his head. Despite that though he didn't want Desmond to leave. Scamander had told him explicitly to not mess this up. He'd do whatever he had to to make sure their meeting went over well.

"So," Daniel said, slightly awkwardly before using his wing to push open the door, "come in."

And he did, feathers brushing lightly against Daniel as he passed. Desmond let Daniel lead him and show him around. He decided he didn't like doors, and he didn't like the small windows - not enough light. Daniel's nervous awkwardness was nearly palpable, and it amused Desmond. "What are you afraid of?" Desmond asked, breaking the silence.

"I'm not afraid of anything," Daniel said, of course he wasn't. Much less he was afraid of some breeder. The only thing he really feared was Scamander's punishments.

Desmond tsked, gaze flicking over to him. "No one likes a lying, violent ass," he murmured, reaching out to run his fingers against the feathers on Daniel's chest. His arms were mostly bare, with a small collection of feathers in contrast to the layers on Desmond's. They rustled and fluffed out when he slipped into Eagle Vision, making the golden feathers in his wings, and the lines on his arm shimmer.

Really, it was like flashing some glitter and all the duller warriors wanted to think about was you. It worked well enough, and let him see clearly when or if Daniel would end up trying to hurt him - although if he was honest, he was just about as easy to read as the wind without the help of the sixth sense.

"I'm not lying," Daniel said. He wasn't afraid he was just... nervous. It had been a while since he'd mated with someone, though he didn't really know how long. His first few cycles after the proeathans came back were extremely short and violent but all he remembered was the fighting and if there had been any fucking he didn't remember. Except the time he'd been culled for it when he nearly had killed the angel who was supposed to be his mate.

His feathers stood up in interest when Desmond started to shimmer. "Shiny," he said, sort of dumbly and he knew it. All angels were so susceptible to shiny things though. He liked his shiny feathers and marks on his arm.

Desmond's laugh was more of a rough trill. "Isn't it?" He held out his wings, the glow more or less pulsing with his heart. It wasn't always a good thing that he liked being looked at and appraised for being... well... pretty. Especially when he rejected mates that weren't Altair. This was new, and he wanted it, and he liked Daniel staring at him this time.

"Maybe I'll let you have one."

A thought in the back of Daniel's mind trickled towards the front. One was that he was insanely jealous of whoever the hell Desmond's life mate was. The other was that he wouldn't mind throttling that avian to further his own chances with Desmond.

Tentatively he reached out and brushed one of Desmond's large golden primaries with his finger. He looked up abruptly when Desmond said he could have one. "Really?" he asked, interested significantly.

"Later. It's a prize, not a gift," because the angel he usually gave the feathers to didn't have the time to care, or remember what they meant. Desmond snagged Daniel's mouth in a brief kiss. The first day was almost always a lot of kissing, preening and touching until both party's hormones were at peak.

The feathers on Daniel's head went up some. Okay, he could like this. He wasn't good at it he kinda knew that, but he didn't think he was awful either. "So," he said slowly, "If I'm good I get a gold feather?" he asked, because he could be good.

Desmond curled his fingers through his feathers, claws lightly scratching over his scalp when the feathers rose. "Something like that," he cooed, pulling his hand away from Daniel's head. He knew which places to touch, and how to treat them, but he was all too aware that Daniel would be fumbling through it. Adorable, but taxing.

"Okay," Daniel said and promised himself he'd be on his best behavior, one so Desmond would want to come back, and two cause he wanted one of Desmond's pretty golden feathers. "Ah, this way," he said, he wanted to be confident here but he was painfully aware that Desmond knew way more about what was going to happen and how than he did. He just didn't know how to do it without... fucking it up really.

At the least he showed Desmond to his room where he slept. His bed was on the ground and big, sort of set into the ground so it really looked like a nest. It was covered in pillows and some blankets, most of the pillows stuffed with his old down from his cycles. Daniel prided himself for having a very comfortable bed. Better than what he'd gotten to sleep on at the academy that was for sure. He sat on it and felt more comfortable now. His nest was familiar and smelled like him. He wanted Desmond to smell like him too.

Desmond settled down by Daniel, leaving his things at the edge of the bed. He pulled one of Daniel's wings out so he could preen him. Daniel wasn't too unkempt, but he was far from immaculately clean like Adha had been. A low, almost purring sound filled his chest as he focused on the task before him.

Daniel stiffened when Desmond grabbed his wing but then relaxed. He didn't spend a lot of time with other angels. When Desmond started preening him he sagged as much as he could. He liked that. He let his limb go a bit limp so he could enjoy it. He should do the same, right? But he felt weird if he just started touching Desmond.

Man, he was awful at this.

He really could not sit comfortably in any way without spreading his wings in one way or another, and it often showcased the golden feathers among the usual, more colorful feathers Desmond had. Moving closer to Daniel, he extended one wing for him.

There was a line between being tactile and being violent, and Desmond had to remind himself to pay attention to that. He had told Daniel he wouldn't stand for being hurt, and he had to keep true to that.

If he was waiting for an invitation Daniel didn't know a better one. He started to preen Desmond's wing, though within a few seconds realized he didn't have to. He frowned a little, annoyed. Whoever was that scent all over him had basically groomed him perfectly. Some of the feathers on his arms rose up since he could smell them on Desmond and didn't like it. Then he reminded himself that they were just a breeder. They weren't important. He managed to force his feathers to settle down. He didn't see a point in grooming perfect feathers so he just settled for petting Desmond's wings.

Daniel's emotions were as obvious as the sunrise, and Desmond found no end to his amusement. "I told you not to worry about it." He didn't mind that Daniel took to just petting him - they were still hands, still warm, still touching him, and he liked that better than nothing.

Desmond moved away from his wing and leaned his head against Daniel's shoulder, feathers rising and then pressing back. "You'll end up covering it up in a little while anyway." He'd just spent an entire day cuddling with Adha, yet he still couldn't keep to himself. Hell, Desmond was practically begging Daniel to run his hands over his feathers. He was trying to be wary about how he acted though, to avoid exciting him too much before he was ready.

Daniel's feathers flared up again, this time from interest. "Yeah I will," he said seriously. He was looking forward to that. He wanted Desmond to smell like him when this was over and any other angel who came across him would smell Daniel all over him. He leaned over and nuzzled against Desmond's neck.

Under that other breeder he could smell Desmond and Mars. Mars smelled like citrus and it smelled good on Desmond too. He liked everything about the way Desmond smelled both his own scent and the smell from around him that clung to him from his home.

Desmond cooed, the sound wordless and low. He didn't mind Daniel's nose and mouth against his skin, nor did he mind how Daniel smelled either. His wings moved, more like a muscle twitch that he couldn't control.

It was hard for him to tell how far along Daniel was, and a part of him didn't care. He wanted to feel Daniel, and he wanted Daniel to feel him.

Daniel was was many things. One thing he wasn't was enthusiastic. He nibbled on Desmond's shoulder and after hesitating he slid his hand around Desmond's neck. Even if just this time, until he left, Desmond was his and he was going to make the most of it. His fingers gently caressed Desmond's throat. He was on his best behavior and knew this was okay at least though. His wings flared and he cupped them around Desmond carefully.

Best behavior, he reminded himself. Best behavior.

He trilled, tipping his head back a little while he found Daniel's attention to his behavior kind of endearing. Desmond put his hands on Daniel's shoulders, returning the gentle, careful touches. His feathers, the golden ones, flickered, and his claws just barely scratched over Daniel's skin.

Hands on his throat was always a weakness for Desmond. Whether it was a firm grasp at the nape of his neck or soft fingers on the column of his throat, it got to him.

This was good. Daniel knew Desmond approved now so he didn't feel nearly as awkward as he did before. He did wonder how far he could go though. He wanted Desmond so bad. He wanted Scamander to approve of him and know he was doing what he'd been told. He sort of knew the politics surrounding their matchmaking, it was a bit over his head. Though he knew if Desmond had his baby it'd be good for his Keeper. He didn't want to mess up.

He ran his fingers across Desmond's throat a few more times before putting his hands on Desmond's shoulders and pushing back. He straddled Desmond's waist and kissed him, a hand back around his neck, but nothing more. Just kisses across Desmond's mouth and jaw. He didn't want to rush, rushing would be bad.

His wings fanned out, and Desmond let Daniel move him how he wished. A not quite sigh slid out of his mouth, followed by more birdlike sounds. Nothing was forced, and even though it wasn't as finessed as it could be, he hadn't expected a perfect performance.

It was strange though. He didn't exactly want or need Daniel, but he'd tolerate him because he was better than nothing. Rough and excitable and definitely unfurnished, but good enough so far.

Daniel pressed more kisses along Desmond's jaw and down his neck so he could touch him elsewhere. He seriously had only half an idea of what he was doing, but he was liking it and Desmond didn't seem to mind either. He was receptive to Daniel's touches so Daniel did it more.

He sat back a bit and was slightly flushed. He was also more than a little excited about this. It was basically new and fun and he knew it would feel good. Not like when he'd fooled around a bit with some of the angels at the academy. This wasn't a soldier, Desmond was soft and plush and Daniel wanted that and wanted to sink all through him.

He let Daniel explore his skin and feathers beneath the loose tunic, and when he leaned back, Desmond was there, moving to compensate and fill the space he left. "You like this?" He asked, pressing a slow kiss against his mouth. For a moment, he didn't care.

Daniel swallowed, "I... yes," yes he really liked it. He leaned down again and pressed a kiss to Desmond's mouth, "We should do more," he said with a grin his huge, dark, wings fanning over the both of them. A lot more. Right now.

Desmond's wings pushed up against Daniel's. "We can't," he said bluntly, "I'm not ready, can't you tell?" He had drawn back and was staring at him, face a perfect deadpan. Aside from the fact that a part of him wanted to shove Daniel down with a growl.

The soldier could be ready as all hell and raring to go, but if their partner wasn't, no amount of sex would conceive offspring. Desmond wasn't at that hormonal stage yet. In fact, other than smelling like Adha, himself and Mars, he didn't have the distinct breeder scent, not as strongly as he probably should have.

Daniel literally came to a screeching halt. Was he supposed to to be able to tell? He just knew he wanted to rub all the other scents off Desmond and replace it with his own and he wanted to do that as soon as possible. Did he have to wait? "What?" he asked dumbly because he knew he was dumb here. His wings drooped a little.

"It won't make a fledgeling." Desmond made a face at him. It would feel pretty good, sure, but he was not in the mood for dealing with the brunt of it when Daniel realized it hadn't worked - and the realization came pretty quickly. "Not until I'm ready." The way he said it though, begged Daniel just to try.

Daniel blinked, "So we can't even have sex?" he asked, because really he was more interested in that. Yeah he wanted to procreate like Scamander had told him, but with Desmod right here he was horny as hell. He didn't care about making a kid. He just wanted to fuck because he knew it'd be way better than any of the times he'd been with a soldier. He wanted to experience that now and damn was he ready. He was really reallyready to go.

Desmond regarded him quietly for a while. "You don't care about that?" His eyes narrowed a bit. He didn't really want to deal with Daniel if he wanted a fuck that ended up with nothing. Desmond was here for mating, not just for entertainment.

"Well-" he shut his mouth before he said something stupid because he could feel himself about to do that. "I do," he said, because he did, it was important that he did end up with a fledgling at the end of this. But he was so much more interested in Desmond. "But I just..." he rubbed his mouth, "I wouldn't mind other stuff," he said, at least being truthful.

He physically removed himself from arm's reach. They were an arranged pair. The whole point was for them to mate successfully. Nothing else. Desmond growled, mostly at himself. It wasn't just the fact that he was Altair's life mate that he was getting worked up, but he couldn't figure it out. Desmond didn't understand why he wasn't falling into the paces - normally he didn't mind sex beforehand.

"Wait," Daniel fumbled after him, his wings went in a few crazy angles. He was going to ruin this. He couldn't do that. He couldn't let this be ruined for him. The feathers on his head and arms flared. "What? What did I do?" he grabbed Desmond's arm. He couldn't fail. He couldn't fail. Scamander would know and he'd be furious.

"Let go." Desmond stared at him. "You didn't do anything." His wings rose to match Daniel's, and his feathers nearly bristled. He was not keen on being touched, clearly.

"Then why are you trying to get away from me?" Daniel growled a bit and didn't let go of Desmond. He wasn't going to let Desmond get away from him.

Desmond's wings flapped, and it was an awkward half movement because he didn't have much of a range at all. "Because I'm not ready to be bred! I'm not here for a-" He stopped, falling silent for a few moments. Then, he swore, smacking himself in the forehead with his free hand. His words were really only a growl, muffled by his palm. He wouldn't ever be 'ready.' Not with how volatile he was, snarling at Daniel like another fighter.

Daniel's lips pulled back over his sharp front teeth. They still had mostly human jaws but teeth like animals with large sharp front teeth to handle all the meat they ate, and then only a few molars in the back to handle the grains. He growled before he let Desmond go and got up. He had to control himself. He turned his back to Desmond even though at that moment Desmond didn't smell like a soft breeder, instead he smelled like a hard, powerful, soldier. Daniel never got along well with other angels, even other soldiers and he didn't want one of them in his bed. He just wanted the breeder Scamander had gotten him on their backs.

He just wanted to have sex why was this so fucking hard?!

Daniel tucked his wings behind his back to show he wasn't a threat. He didn't want to fight Desmond, or rile him up. He didn't want an angry angel in his bed. But he also wouldn't just let Desmond leave. Scamander had made it very clear he was to follow through.

Desmond relaxed when he saw Daniel's wings fold. His didn't quite close up behind him, but they weren't exactly flared out anymore either. He knew he wouldn't make it back, not when his hormones switched like that. There were a few moments where Desmond didn't do anything aside from take slow breaths.

Adha was right, he was only making things that much harder for himself. Underneath the bristling feathers he still wanted to get fucked. Like Daniel, he didn't care that Scamander wanted a successful breed. Desmond wanted a cock in him, plain and simple. He knew he was being incredibly fickle. He knew, and he didn't care about that either because watching Daniel struggle to control himself was sadistically entertaining.

He pushed himself up, wings rustling. Desmond moved over to Daniel, fitting himself against his back, between the folds of his wings. "You don't care, you just want to fuck something," he purred against the shell of Daniel's ear. The hand that slid across Daniel's stomach wasn't entirely the soft touch of a breeder; Desmond's talons made themselves known with shallow, white scratches. "The question is, do you even know how?"

Daniel's wings flared. He growled. "Don't fucking insult me," he snapped. Really he was just hanging on by a thread now. Desmond being obnoxious wasn't helping. He was angry and his wings twitched. Both of his hands became fists. He was angry and he knew he shouldn't be. This was going to fall apart but right now he didn't really care. He was high strung and all the kissing he'd done with Desmond had him spiraling.

Before he'd been dealing with a breeder, but Desmond didn't even smell like one of those anymore, not even under his Keeper or that other soft breeder. He smelled like a soldier. It was doing bad things to him and fucking with his hormones. His head told him it was still Desmond. His body told him that it was like Desmond was gone, taken, another soldier had taken him away. He wanted to murder whoever had done that. His head told him it was Desmond but the other angel had fucked with him and his body wanted to kill Desmond for taking away his mate, no matter how temporary it would be.

"I want you to fuck me like this," Desmond hissed. "Too bad I don't smell like a plucky little breeder anymore, yeah?" He forced Daniel to turn around and look at him. He'd let Daniel overpower him - even when he was a soldier he just let them go at it, he was never exactly like the others anyway. "I might not even fight back... much."

A good angel who had a switched partner would recognize that they were that same angel, and Daniel obviously didn't, and that was doing bad things to Desmond.

Daniel growled lowly, his upper lip showing some of his teeth. He was trembling from previously holding back. But Desmond was just goading him now, was just asking for it. Looking at Desmond had him infuriated and turned on at the same time.

He shoved Desmond back with a snarl, literally pushing him back onto the bed. Daniel followed after, his dark wings flared out widely, making him bigger. He shoved Desmond onto his back, his hands gripping Desmond's so hard the area around his fingers were white and would probably be purple when he was done. He straddled across Desmond's hips, half pinning Desmond's wings with his knees in a way he knew was uncomfortable. His knees wouldn't do much good to really keep those wings in check if Desmond wanted to move them for real but they offered Daniel a bit more control in the situation.

The problem was though that he wasn't in control. Daniel wasn't thinking clearly. Sometimes angels went into a feral state similar to wild human-avians from before the rise. It made them more aggressive and shut down parts of their brain that dealt with higher level thinking. Usually it only happened in a large battle and they were fighting for their lives. Right now though Daniel was in the feral state and he was pissed and still horny from what Desmond had been doing earlier.

He was going to make Desmond regret leading him on and being so damn picky and fickle. He was going to do what Scamander demanded and he was going to enjoy himself if it killed him.

Of all the things he could have done, Desmond just keened. He didn't try to move his wings, even though, yes, his knees weren't comfortable. It was bad, really bad, and he knew he wouldn't be getting out of this without more than a couple of bruises and cuts, but Daniel didn't mean anything to him other than an exhilarating experience.

He actually cooed at the feral noises Daniel made, body responding much more readily to that than the awkward touches and kisses he'd been subject to earlier.

Daniel was still way out of his own head. He wasn't himself and he didn't care. And now Desmond was making nice, agreeable, noises. They didn't make him calm down, if anything they just told him he could be this rough and this violent and Desmond would like it. Daniel knew he himself would like it.

He could handle that.

He changed the position of his hands. One went around Desmond's throat and he actually squeezed. Not as hard as he could, but enough to make Desmond pay attention and his head tip back. Daniel cocked his head at Desmond, half seeing him. He still didn't smell like a breeder but he did smell like someone quite willing to be taken. Daniel could help him with that. He put himself between Desmond's legs and used his free hand to yank up his tunic, keeping a firm grip on Desmond's throat.

Normally, he hated full-on choking. Honestly, he didn't give a shit right then, it meant he could grab at Daniel, sink claws into his arm. Rile him up even further. There was no real connection between Desmond and Daniel then, and that made it dangerous, but it was clear neither of them cared.

Desmond's legs hooked around Daniel, his way of saying he wasn't letting him go just as much as Daniel wasn't going to let him leave.

Daniel squeezed Desmond's throat but he needed use of both of his hands because he wore shorts he needed to wriggle out of. In the academy he'd never had to worry about things like clothes. But his Keeper told him to wear them. So he did. He pushed his shorts down, his cock popping up excitedly from its sheath. He was still ready to go from before, maybe even more than before because this; anger and violence, this was really getting him going.

His fingers slipped from Daniel's arm when he took his hand away from his throat. Desmond nearly whined at the loss - it came out as a partial hiss instead. He did try to raise himself, arch off of the inset bed to meet him, all bared teeth and low snarls.

Daniel shoved Desmond back down with a growl. He didn't want him moving unless Daniel let him. Clearly Desmond wanted him to hold him down, so he did. He dug his fingers into the flesh of Desmond's shoulders, digging with his nails too. He used his other hand to pull one of Desmond's legs up before reaching down.

He groaned when he went in. Yes. Much better than a soldier who was bred to fuck, and not be fucked. His hand not on Desmond's shoulder went to his throat again because Desmond stayed exactly where he wanted him when he had his strong hand and claws around Desmond's neck. He squeezed each time he thrust in, his head tipped back. It felt really good.

Through it all, Desmond stared at him, eyes just a little too focused. He let Daniel handle him, hissing a little from the prick of his nails. It was pretty obvious that Desmond wasn't getting anything out of it, not that Daniel was paying the least bit of attention to him.

Daniel had a lot of things, lasting power during sex wasn't one of them. Most soldiers didn't. They finished quickly so they could go to other things like fight and protect their city while the breeders took care of the babies. So Daniel finished quickly, his wings flaring out a little when he finished. He didn't give a shit how Desmond felt but he knew he'd been pretty rough because he'd needed it. He'd needed it so badly and used Desmond to get what he wanted, to make him feel good.

Panting, he sat back, releasing Desmond, now not nearly so hostile or violent. He felt really good.

He laid there, snarling when Daniel drew back like that was all there was to it. Desmond lunged and pinned him, honestly not caring that Daniel was already coming down. He sat himself on his hips, leaned over Daniel's body, using the fact that he wasn't fully aware to really hold him down. He was going to finish, and he didn't give a fuck that Daniel was done.

Daniel bared his teeth at Desmond and bucked a little but he didn't have the energy to throw him off just at that moment. Then he found he didn't want to throw him off either because Desmond was on top of him quite literally. He gripped Desmond's hips tightly and didn't even realize he had it in him to get it together again so soon after the last time. He could really, really, like this. Scamander would be pissed though since even Daniel knew this was barely above soldiers rutting. There'd be no fledgling from this.

Desmond rolled his hips, grinding against Daniel until his growls sounded more like whimpers. He was frustrated that he couldn't get himself to unsheathe - and probably wouldn't unless he had the audacity to fuck Daniel. Not that he wouldn't, but he was still seeing red when he looked at him. "Can't even finish me off," he taunted breathlessly, without passion.

It was entirely typical, and Desmond already knew he'd be left impatient and wanting, and no amount of trying to fuck himself on Daniel's cock would solve it. Certainly didn't mean he wasn't going to try until they were both exhausted.

Daniel narrowed his eyes at Desmond and now did have the fortitude to sit up and shove Desmond off him. He pushed Desmond till the other angel was on his stomach and pinned him there with his hands and wings. To make sure Desmond stayed like that a hand once again went around his throat. He pushed one of Desmond's wings down to make his back arch and so he had less control over the limb.

"I'm not your life mate," Daniel growled in Desmond's ear, "I'm not here to make you feel good. And since you fucked this up," because it was his fault, not Daniel's. He'd been prepared to be nice and play nice and follow the rules before Desmond started sending all these mixed messages. "I'm just going to make myself feel good instead," and he bit Desmond's shoulder hard, though not hard enough to draw blood. But Desmond would have a bruise when this was done. Several bruises really. As it was Desmond's neck was going to be covered in a collar of Daniel's finger marks.

Desmond wasn't going to have it a second time. He thrashed beneath Daniel, digging his claws into whatever was closest to his hands and feet. "You already did that," he hissed. It wasn't often that all twenty curved talons were sunk into any single target, but to Desmond's credit, he didn't drag and flay the damn bed.

Perhaps it had been unfair when Desmond led Daniel on, encouraged him when he should have hung back until his hormones were more or less balanced. He wasn't going to stand for being blamed, they both acted on instinct when it came down to it.

"Well I'm going to do it again," Daniel told Desmond, though out of breath. Really he did not last long and if he actually had any real experience he'd be embarrassed. But he didn't so he didn't give a fuck and he definitely didn't give a fuck about Desmond now. Scamander might actually cull him for being this damn incompetent and let Desmond get to him like this. If that was the case he was going to leech every ounce of pleasure he could from Desmond's body. Because fuck this guy.

He squeezed Desmond's neck and shoved his wing down firmly. He was really close. Daniel pressed his head between Desmond's wings and muttered curses under his breath.

The next sound out of his mouth was nothing short of a screech. Daniel yanking on his wing made him arch, and the cry faded into a less angry keening. His voice was beyond his control by then. Desmond jerked, hoping it would hide the shudder in his wings.

Daniel shoved with his wings and made Desmond just stop moving. He was so damn wiggly and it was annoying. But he got Desmond to more or less lie rather still while he finished. He moaned when he did, his grip on Desmond's neck tightening for a few moments before he relaxed his grip. He pressed his forehead against the back of Desmond's neck and went limp basically all over. He felt completely exhausted.

Desmond forced himself to remain still when Daniel finished. The fighter fucked like a tactless rabbit and still he wasn't even there. He bit back a chuckle, having to physically bite down on Daniel's bedding.

"If this is how you treat them... I'm not surprised." The feeling of Daniel's forehead against the nape of his neck was almost adorable, and just like before, there was no bite to his insult. He wasn't satisfied, that was for sure, but he wasn't about to try and teach Daniel exactly what he'd done so wrong. The idiot had ended up in his ass that last time, not that Desmond made any mention of it.

He was certainly not going to want to move for the next twelve hours, but it was debatable whether it was that he didn't want to or actually couldn't.

Still a bit short of breath Daniel got off Desmond, one because Desmond wasn't thrashing or fighting anymore so he felt safe letting him have real possession of his claws again. And two because he couldn't stay in anymore. He rolled off Desmond and onto his stomach so his wings weren't in the way. Desmond had said something but he wasn't listening. He grabbed one of his pillows and put it under his head. He was literally asleep twenty seconds later,

Desmond snarled at his sleeping form, and hated that he wanted to lean against him. He knew he would end up seeking heat while he was asleep. It wasn't the best scenario because he couldn't really remember past his anger how many times Daniel fucked him, but he could tell that he was definitely incapacitated, or at least moving would be slow going and possibly one of the worst things ever.

He forced himself to move, and forewent even trying to find his tunic or bag, or even check to see if any feathers he lost were important. It wasn't dark, but his eyes wanted to close, and though he wanted to just leave he wanted to sleep while his body finished rejecting everything that Daniel did. Desmond didn't even feel good about it, not on the long term. The bruises were perfect and tender, but the amount of time that pain felt remotely good corresponded directly to his own involvement.

Getting outside was a chore, and he couldn't even get his wings to move fast enough to lift himself. Desmond would be walking home, and it would take a hell of a long time. Of course, he'd have to get over the fence first.


	35. Momma Bear

Mars was waiting for Desmond to get home impatiently. Scamander had called her a few hours ago and told her Desmond wasn't with Daniel, apparently he'd left after Daniel fell asleep after sex. Scamander was furious. Mars was even more so and had screamed at him a good ten minutes before Scamander had just hung up on her. Served him right though.

She knew Desmond would come home at least, it was just taking him a while. As soon as she'd finished being angry at Scamander she'd turned on the song to call Desmond home. He wouldn't be able to disobey, she knew that. So she was just waiting, and worried out of her mind. What would make Desmond leave? Daniel must have been horrible. Not to mention too quick for clearly his own good.

Mars was waiting by the door for Desmond and when it finally opened she was the first thing he saw. "Desmond," she said and he stepped in and she really got a look at him. "Desmond!" now she was even angrier. Desmond was all roughed up. His wings were a mess, his feathers all pushed around and he wasn't wearing his tunic so the bruises were clear. But she was more concerned with the ones around his throat. Clearly it had been some time since they'd made and the bruises were starting to yellow instead of be dark purple. But they were around his neck and down his chest and his waist. "Oh my angel what happened?" she asked and took his face in her hands. She smoothed her thumbs across his cheeks. Daniel had hurt her Desmond.

He gave a soft, whining hiss, but didn't pull away from her. Desmond just shook his head, all he wanted to do was curl up in his nest and not get up until the sun forced him.

"I switched," Desmond muttered. "I did stupid things, Daniel did stupid things." His wings folded tighter against his back, but he didn't make an effort to hide the bruises from Mars. It was inevitable she'd find them at one point or another.

"You what?" Mars blinked at Desmond a bit incomprehensibly. She knew what switching meant but that Desmond would switch. "Oh Desmond," she sighed and ran a hand through his hair. She didn't know how that could even happen. Desmond was so good, he never switched. She hung her head a little, "Go wash up, we'll talk when you're clean," since Desmond was so rough but she didn't care if he was tired. He'd fucked up, they both knew it, and Desmond needed to tell her what had happened so she needed to know exactly how angry she should be at Scamander. She let him go and squeezed his shoulder before nudging him towards the bathroom.

Desmond probably spent an extraneous amount of time in the bathroom cleaning himself. He didn't use water if he could help it, because he had so many feathers. Cleaning mostly consisted of a warm, wet cloth and making his feathers lie in order again. He was so exhausted and just wanted to sleep, but Mars wanted to talk and she wanted to talk now.

He was markedly less ragged when he came to her office, clothed again and more or less in order. Desmond didn't speak, though, only made a quiet, uncomfortable warble.

Mars was trying to make herself busy while Desmond cleaned up. She was compiling a list of things she needed to yell at Scamander about including how roughed up her angel was along with several other things most of which were political and tedious. Any good will they had was gone. She only tolerated Altair messing with Desmond because Desmond insisted on him and no one else. But even then only so much. She didn't tolerate stupid soldiers hurting her angel.

She looked up at Desmond when he came in. "Come here," she ordered sternly and pointed next to her for Desmond to sit on the floor in front of her. She wasn't happy with Daniel or Scamander; but she wasn't happy with Desmond either. He'd switched when he'd been the one who'd told Mars he wanted Daniel. She wasn't angry at him like she was the other idiots but she was frustrated and disappointed in him. Desmond was a headache sometimes. Like now.

Desmond didn't sit, he kneeled down, biting his lip. He was far from keen on explaining what happened in any level of detail. His wings folded tightly, feathers low. He had no idea what to expect from Mars.

"I didn't think I'd switch, I was just waiting until I was ready..." Desmond didn't quite meet her gaze.

Mars turned to him trying very hard not to be angry. "Then why did you come home covered in bruises?" she asked him, "And what did Daniel do? And I expect the truth, Desmond," she said sternly and hooked a leg over her knee. Normally she was more like a friend to her angel than his master, but even Mars had limits, and she'd reached them with this. She was sure Desmond sometimes forgot Mars didn't just have a carrot, but also a stick, and she wasn't afraid to use it when he disobeyed.

"Well, he was, and he wanted it now and he didn't like me pulling away." Desmond hesitated, scowling a bit. "Daniel got angry, I got angry, I just enabled him - I wanted it." He hadn't cared at the time. Then again, he hadn't been thinking like a breeder then either.

Mars groaned and pressed her hand to her forehead. "Desmond," she sighed. "So you encouraged his aggressive behavior and switched," she actually scowled at him. "What am I going to tell Scamander... what am I going to tell Veles? He's been contacting me about you. The assault is coming up and he isn't the only one who's been trying to get in touch with me," as usual, not that anyone was good enough for Desmond other than Altair.

"The council is expecting heavy losses on this assault. Abstergo is one of the most sophisticated and powerful faction the humans have; as I'm sure you know. They kill angels Desmond. I let you go with Daniel because a mandate came out that all breeders needed to be in use," she looked down on him angrily.

"What the hell am I supposed to tell them? That my angel switched because he's impatient? This is absolutely unacceptable Desmond. I expected so much better from you than this." She rubbed her temple. "How am I going to fix this? This now won't just be something I have to explain to Scamander. I'll have to explain this to the council," she jiggled her foot, annoyed.

He squirmed and actually whined. Veles meant Altair, but of course he'd gone and fucked that up too. "It wasn't because I was impatient - he was." Desmond made a face, scowling at the floor. "I wasn't trying to switch," he mumbled.

Desmond didn't consciously try to do much of anything other than get close to Altair. Going from a breeder's mindset to a fighter's wasn't exactly easy, but it wasn't unheard of, all angels had the capacity to become fighters were there a great enough threat. It certainly was not that Daniel had been intending to flat out murder him.

"He wasn't trying to kill me or anything..."

"Oh, wonderful," Mars said. "And if you hadn't meant to switch than you would have behaved. You know how soldiers are Desmond. I expected you to be able to handle it and know how to do what was needed. Instead you come home hurt, switched, and completely useless," she knew Desmond hated being called useless. "You're not a soldier this cycle Desmond. You don't get a breeder like other soldiers before it." Desmond was totally useless for having children now. "I'm calling Veles tomorrow and telling him what happened, that you're unavailable and that he can find Altair another angel before the assault. You're grounded until further notice and are to stay in your room unless its meal time. Understand?" she asked and tapped her foot against his stomach to make sure he was looking at her.

His gut twisted, and he made a sound like Mars had actually struck him when she said he was useless. Desmond whimpered, nodding when she grounded him. If they were all screwed over, he'd at least be here, but it was far from being a good turn of events. He could still be bred, but it would definitely be a last ditch, end of the line arrangement. Either way it basically translated to a useless breeder.

"Good. Now go to your room. I'll call you when dinner is ready," she said, tapping her foot. She knew Desmond was reading her body language and if she'd been an angel like him her wings would be flared out fully, feathers extended to the max. She was the boss here, his flock leader, and she was pissed. He was making her life difficult and she already had to deal with annoying men enough in her life. She didn't want Desmond to make her life difficult too.

Desmond slipped out of the room, trying to hide his limp. He still submitted easily to her aggression, a trait common throughout whether he was a mild-mannered breeder or a quick-tempered fighter.

His refuge was piling everything up on his bed and hiding beneath it so that he could nurse his bruises and frustration in relative darkness. It was depressing, but he still only wanted to sleep.

It wa a few days after the disastrous matchmaking with Daniel that Mars went into Desmond's room. She had a case in her hand. It had been given to her by the council after they found out Desmond had switched. She'd pleaded his case to the best she could. As it was they couldn't afford to have a breeder out of commission because of a stupid mistake. They were expecting high casualties so they needed to try and replenish their angels from the soul reservoir as quickly as possible.

The case contained an injector gun and vials of hormone injections. They said Desmond needed to be put back on track as a breeder. So he was getting hormone injections.

Desmond was curled up on his bed looking pitiful. She'd only seen him for meals, otherwise he stayed locked in his room. She sat on the edge of his nest-bed and made a soft cooing noise, holding out her hand. She hated having to discipline Desmond. But sometimes he really just tested her. The cooing wasn't anywhere as pretty as what Desmond could manage with his wide range of noises, but she knew what noise she was making. It was a loving sound and she stroked his wings a little waiting for him to seek her hand like she knew he would since she knew he wanted her approval, her touch and affection.

He responded with a low whine, moving to nuzzle against her hand. Desmond cooed back at her, and pulled himself out of his pile. His eyes avoided the case, and he was unsure if he was allowed to lean against her.

The bruises on his skin were healing quickly, less of the purpled green and more yellow. They would still be there for a while, but it didn't look like he'd been thrown out of a bus.

Mars ran her fingers through the feathers on Desmond's head. "You're okay," she said softly and leaned down, gently nuzzling him. This was her way of telling him she wasn't mad at him anymore. Yeah she was annoyed still but she wasn't mad. She was more angry with Scamander, and Daniel really. She stroked his soft feathers on his head and shoulders before sitting back up.

She looked at her lap and opened the containing. "You're getting hormone injections," she told him, "for being a breeder," she took out one of the vials. "If you're good about it and react well I'll ask Ogoun if Adha can come over. But," she gave him a stern look, "only if you're back to normal," she loaded the vial into the injector.

She wouldn't have Adha over and risk Desmond switching again. It had only been a few days though and Desmond had been isolated from other angels. He could switch back if he had the right hormone chemistry and a breeder like Adha could do one of two things, switch Desmond back to how he'd been before meeting Daniel. Alternatively she could also push him further into the soldier mindset. She had to be careful when she brought Adha around.

Desmond kept his eyes far from the whole contraption. He had no problem looking at an open wound, or making them, but injections and needles were a different thing entirely. And the problem itself hadn't come up until that last human-avian incarnation.

"Come up here," Mars said gently, she knew how Desmond felt about needles, she'd previewed all his memories on his first cycle and kept them out at first. Once he'd been old enough she'd let him decide if he wanted all those memories of that human who had simultaneously made him and very nearly ruined him. She patted the spot beside her. It would literally be over in two seconds because of the injection gun, she just had to get Desmond to sit still that long. And he would, because he wanted to her to be happy with him again.

He scooted over to where Mars wanted him, and leaned against the shoulder she wasn't using. Really it was just to bury his face against while she jabbed the needle into his arm... or wherever it was going. Desmond still whined about it, though he was keeping pretty still.

Mars laughed a little, "Oh you're such a big baby," she said and rubbed his arm. "How come you always need lil old me to baby you?" though she didn't mind. Yeah she didn't want kids but Desmond was special. But it was sort of silly. Desmond, like most angels or other proeathans, completely dwarfed her. By human standards she was almost outrageously tall for a woman at six feet, but for her people she was short. That she would have to comfort her big angel (who could be even bigger when he was a soldier) was on the side of ridiculous and funny.

She took a sanitary pad and wiped it on the inside of Desmond's elbow where there were no feathers. She pressed the injector to his skin and pulled the trigger. The injector went off with a soft pop and hiss and she pulled it away. "All done," she said and pulled his head onto her shoulder, petting his hair. "You have three more over the rest of the week," she said, it was just the start of the treatments though. She had three weeks to get Desmond back to how he had been. Hopefully after this week Adha could help with that.

Desmond flinched and immediately curled up after Mars pulled the spent needle away. He didn't want three more, but he wouldn't complain. "Okay," he muttered. He was pretty sure that no other soldier was this whiny or touchy-feely with their Keeper. Then again, not many of them were just as likely to be breeders.


	36. A Fantastic Mistake

Mars was happy. And when Mars was happy Desmond was happy and got things he enjoyed. She was very happy with how he'd been taking to the hormones, though he was such a baby about them because he didn't like needles. This was the second week of them, he had two more this week and then three more next week and he should be totally done and at stable chemistry for breeding. Which was, of course, the entire point of this.

Because Desmond had been responding so well Mars had asked Ogoun to let Adha visit. The pretty angel had been visiting for a few days. Up till now Mars monitored all the time they spent together to make sure nothing happened. Nothing did.

She got the door when Adha rang, as punctual as always. She knew Desmond heard. "Hello Mars," Adha bowed her head to Mars when she opened the door.

"Hello, Adha. Come in," and she led Adha to Desmond's room. "Desmond," she said as she opened the door. "Adha's here. I'm going to run a few quick errands," meaning she was leaving them alone, meaning she trusted Desmond alone with Adha. "So play nice and don't burn the house down while I'm gone."

Desmond came up to the doorway, greeting Adha with a soft, happy sound. He hugged her, feathers ruffling. He'd never once burned down the house - and he didn't think that Mars needed to be worried.

"Okay good. I'll be back in a little bit," Mars said, satisfied everything would be alright without her there to supervise their play date.

Adha nuzzled into Desmond's chest. She always liked the way he smelled. Especially now actually. "Your Keeper is trusting you again," she said with a grin, as pleased as Desmond since she knew how distraught Desmond had been while Mars had been displeased by him.

He cooed, carefully combing through the feathers on her head. Desmond pulled Adha to his nest-bed, which was still mostly a pile of things. He just snuggled against her, burying his face in the same soft feathers he smoothed down.

"You seem in a really good mood," Adha said, carding her fingers through the feathers on his big wings. Effectively Desmond had her pinned to be smothered with snuggling and frankly she wasn't adverse to the idea. "Other than this anything good happen?" she asked.

Desmond's wings were half spread. "I'm still grounded." Adha was the only other soul besides Mars he'd been allowed to see.

Adha gigged, "So you're just so excited to see me. Is that it?" she cooed in delight.

"I always am." He kissed the bridge of her nose. "Were you expecting something?" Desmond asked, blinking.

"No," Adha said slowly, though really with how touchy Desmond was with her it was practically courtship. She didn't want to do anything that would cast Desmond in a bad light with Mars though. "I just like being appreciated," she said petting his head.

He curved his wings around Adha, almost but not quite purring. Desmond was probably a little too excited to see her. Maybe it was that Mars wasn't there, or it was a day between injections, but Adha smelled really nice, and she was warm, soft and comfortable. He wasn't going to let her go unless threatened.

"Desmond," Adha said with a slight frown. She didn't know if Desmond actually realized what he was doing. Maybe he didn't, she was giving him the benefit of the doubt. "If you're not going to fuck me you really need to back off a little," because he was a little too close. It was also starting to smell less like two breeders and more like a soldier was in here. It probably wasn't a good thing.

He bit his lip, worrying the recent scar. Desmond realized that he wanted to, "Who would know?" He was still the prince of bad decisions, but this decision definitely felt like it would feel really damn good. "It would be way better than another soldier," he pointed out, voice low, "And you're just as sick of them as I am."

"We would know," Adha said and pushed herself away a little though not really away. Mars had told her what happened and why Desmond was getting injections. Unlike Desmond apparently Adha knew how to handle stupid angels who were controlled by their dicks. "Would you want to keep that from Mars?" she asked and licked her lips a bit nervously. Desmond was bigger than her, she was used to that with soldiers, but the types were usually around the same height. Desmond was bigger than other breeders though. If he wanted to he could keep her where he wanted. She really hoped he didn't though and wasn't so stupid as to do that. She'd claw his face off before she let him do something to her, at least to try and fight back.

He just whimpered at her, watched Adha flick her tongue over her lips. Desmond's fingers twitched, but his grip did not tighten. He was unsure about it at least, and didn't pin her. It was clear he wanted to. "I don't act like them, I know I'm not supposed to grab and pull, it doesn't feel good."

"I'm supposed to be with someone else," Adha said, really she was just trying to steer Desmond out of decision he might regret. She was supposed to be with a soldier before the assault. Ogoun had already told her and she'd met him. He was nice, and while not gentle like she was sure Desmond would be, it wouldn't be the first time for him this cycle. Which was good. She hated virgins, they were rough and mean and usually hurt. Clearly since she'd seen the last of the bruises on Desmond from his run in with a virgin soldier. "Use the head on your shoulders," she told him.

He scowled at her. "... Yeah, and the more I think about it, the more I want it." Desmond's expression softened, and he pet the feathers on her chest and shoulders with the backs of his fingers, cooing gently.

Adha could see this wasn't working. She thought back on everything she'd done the past few days. She'd never led him on. Mars had always either been in the room with them or in sight of them to make sure this didn't happen. At the very least Adha knew this wasn't her fault. She hadn't led him on or done anything she didn't do with any other breeders and she only came over when Mars asked her to.

"Even though it'd make Mars upset?" she asked, swallowing. She wasn't immune to him though. Earlier she'd thought it was like a courtship and she was right; it was. Adha didn't want Desmond to do something he'd regret later but she didn't know how much longer she could keep telling him no either. Her body was responding exactly the way it was supposed to when confronted with someone she was supposed to mate with and that... wasn't good.

Desmond let out a whine. "You wouldn't tell her, or is that what you're trying to say?" He moved to kneel over her so he could nuzzle into the soft feathers he had been touching. Part of it was to stop Adha from moving away again. She had come to mean a lot to Desmond, and as much as he didn't want to ruin what they had, he also wanted to breed her because she meant so much to him.

"Or you help me get rid of this because I'm not going to be left horny again." His body would have much rathered burying his cock in Adha and thoroughly fucking her. While not exactly visibly aroused, Desmond was definitely horny.

Adha gasped softly, not expecting Desmond suddenly over her. She shifted to be comfortable on her back and really didn't need to say anything. Her body was talking for her. She sort of hated to admit it but she was really turned on right now. Usually her mates had to work for it but they were always so clumsy and annoying. Desmond knew exactly what to do and the fact that he smelled like both types wasn't helping.

When it came down to it, she wanted him. He'd be better than any soldier Ogoun arranged for her. She made a soft sort of whistling coo of a noise and slid her hands up Desmond's chest. If he was so dead set and was flipping all the switches she had she wasn't going to keep denying herself.

Desmond leaned down, pressing kisses along her shoulder and neck. He purred against Adha's skin and pulled her hips off of the bed. His hands were kind, and he was mindful of his claws, and so very thorough. He knew exactly where to touch her, how hard to press when he ground down, for how long.

His breath was short, and more often a quiet, repeated keening. "Adha," Desmond murmured, mouth more at her ear.

Adha had her eyes closed and she was grinning more than a little. It was really nice to have a mate who actually knew their way around her body and didn't just fumble along hoping to not screw up too badly. She liked the kisses and the touches and the way Desmond's hands felt on her, pushing against her body but not in a way that she didn't like.

She reached up for Desmond's face, opening her eyes again and caressed it, sliding her fingers across his cheeks and jaw and down his neck. Her grin turned into a little smirk Altair would have been proud of as she laid her hands around Desmond's throat, where the bruises there had been the darkest and still remained a little. Adha was gentle though and her fingers nearly hovered over Desmond's skin, barely touching.

Then she tightened them barely so she had enough purchase to pull Desmond down and kiss him.

He groaned and felt himself unsheathe. Beneath him, Adha's body was practically begging him to ram into her. Desmond managed not to, instead adopting a slower approach as he slid into the tight, warm opening.

Desmond pulled Adha off of the bed, pressing her against his own body. One hand was anchored at her lower back, the other hooked around her shoulder, fit into the space between one of her wings and her shoulder blade. His own wings spread out, feathers splayed.

Adha gasped as she put her legs on either side of Desmond's thighs. Unlike with soldiers Desmond knew what he was doing. He wasn't as big as soldiers but she liked it better and she liked feeling him between her thighs. She grinned feeling Desmond push up into her, his hands on her back.

He felt really good and he wasn't mindlessly fucking her either like other soldiers would who had no thought in their heads that maybe they shouldn't be so rough. Breeders weren't made of the same tough stuff as soldiers where they could just mindlessly fuck. Adha liked to be pampered. Desmond was taking care of himself first but she still made it feel good and would make her feel even better once he was done.

Adha put her hands on Desmond's shoulders and moved with him, trilling happily. She didn't have to worry about Mars catching them, Desmond's Keeper was gone. It was just the two of them. Adha had been with another breeder before and where soldiers finished in a few minutes breeders just lasted and lasted. They could be at this for a while before Desmond even wanted to finish. Her wings flared and rocked with him, short of breath a bit and pressed her forehead against Desmond's. "That's really good," she said, happily out of breath.

Desmond purred, nuzzling and kissing her. He laughed softly, movement slow. He was really sweet on Adha, making sure to take the time to please her with his hands - though he knew that how he was moving his hips felt pretty damn good.

They really could go on for a while, but Mars would be back at some time, and he couldn't be caught smelling like sex.

Adha kissed him on his face, his lips, his neck. She adored the way he smelled and it made her incredibly needy actually. He was half and half and it was literally the best of both worlds.

"Why didn't we do this earlier?" Adha gasped because Desmond's hands were distracting and perfect. She nuzzled into him with a whine, squeezing his shoulders and back tightly.

"Because we aren't supposed to do this," He answered with a smile that was more of a smirk. The wrists of Desmond's wings pressed close to Adha's as his pace sped up. Desmond buried his face against her shoulder, hissing.

Adha was going to say something but all that came out was a few, short, moans and some low trills. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and neck and was so glad he was moving faster now. She let her soft warbles and gasps be his incentive and appreciation. Because she appreciated him. She appreciated him so much for giving her a good time and not just mindlessly mating with her because he'd been told to.

Desmond echoed her sounds with a somewhat strained and muffled voice. It was interrupted by a shaky kind of keening, hips snapping just a little bit harder to bury himself when he came, as if there would be a chance he'd mess up somehow. He apologized for the sudden jerk with kisses against the feathers on her shoulder, and a soft warble of his own.

Adha laughed a little, voice shaky. "So much better than what I can expect in a week or so," she sighed happily and pressed her hand against the feathers on his head and shoulders. She cursed, and she never cursed, even usually during or after sex. But Desmond... Desmond deserved her bad mouth.

She pushed herself away from him a little, still on his lap. She had a bit of a cheeky grin on her face. "Again," she said cheerfully and bumped her nose against his, chirping and flashing her wings.

He shook his head, though it was more of him pushing against Adha's hand. There was a satisfied look on his face, even though the amused smile. Desmond hadn't let her move far enough away that he slid free of her, and he didn't seem intent on changing that either.

"I don't know when Mars is coming back," Desmond cooed, hands resting amicably at her hips, thumbs brushing over her feathers. He certainly wanted to go at it again, and his body would begin responding again to do so in a little while. To make up for it, Desmond wrapped his wings around her and caught her lips in another kiss. He didn't let Adha go until he felt breathless himself.

Adha just chirped when Desmond stopped kissing her and rested her forehead against his, panting slightly. "Well, you finished first," she said, Desmond had gotten her going but she wanted to finish too. He'd gotten off. It was why she'd wanted to go again. She'd been so close and Desmond felt so good.

He rolled his hips up, mostly just to see how sensitive Adha still was. Satisfied, he moved her enough that he was pretty much free (which prompted his penis to sheathe itself again), and had enough room to really touch her. Desmond knew Adha was right there, really incredibly close, and she was wet and wanting and needy. His fingers were gentle, deftly aware of his talons, and sure. He probably wasn't even going to need to do much more than rub her.

All of Adha's feathers fluffed out so she looked more like a dandelion than an angel. She trilled and moaned and she hadn't actually had someone give her an orgasm in a long time. Soldiers were totally useless for actually pleasing their partner unless you, literally, held their hands about it. She squirmed in delight and lay panting on the bed, her hand tight on the sheets. "Oh thank goodness," she moaned. She ran her hand across her stomach and just chirped some, happy and content.

Desmond grinned down at her, then nuzzled into the slightly frizzed feathers on her head. He managed to fit himself beside Adha, snuggling with her in a more breeder-like manner, cooing and responding to her little chirps with some of his own. "I... almost forgot what that was even like."

Of course, he actually didn't, but it was better than sinking into an easily awkward silence. And it was better than asking Adha to get him off in the same way, even if it would put him more firmly back into the whole breeder mind-set. That was why Mars was injecting him three times a week, it wasn't Adha's job to help him with that.

Adha giggled, "No you didn't," she teased him, nuzzling him. After a few minutes she sucked her teeth a bit and looked down at her hand on her stomach.

She knew how her body worked. Unlike Desmond she'd had several children during her cycles, only one or two with Altair. Angels went into 'heat' briefly before, during, and after sex if you were turned on enough and had the right hormone chemistry. Angels had been created by an intelligent hand, unlike proeathans and humans, and they didn't waste like naturally evolved creatures did. They didn't ovulate in the same manner. Because of this Adha would in the next few hours, kicked in by sex and hormones. Angels were also freakishly fertile and were guaranteed to get pregnant if you flipped the right switches and were full of the right hormones.

So in short, Adha was pregnant.

She pressed her head back with an annoyed groan. That... wasn't supposed to happen. Shit. In a week or so she was going to be with a fighter and he was supposed to knock her up. "So," she said slowly, "you realize you're a dad now right?"

Desmond was excited and nervous and incredibly pissed with himself all at the same time. Needless to say, the emotions made his face do some pretty weird ass shit. "Fuck." In the time he hadn't been paying attention, he'd reached out to touch her stomach, and jerked back when he came back into focus. "Fuck!"

It had been a long time since Desmond had actually fathered any children, and the whole point of the injections was so that he could mother one. He pushed himself away and rushed out of the room in a flurry of skewed feathers and more creative swearing. Was he supposed to get a shot today? Desmond was pretty sure he hadn't gotten one earlier, or the day before so he was, wasn't he?

He'd gone into Mars' office, and was staring at the case. Desmond kept walking halfway toward it, and then turning around to leave, but rather than leave, just turn around again at the door with a hiss. Oh fuck, he'd start losing feathers if he freaked out any more about it, and that alone was enough to make him snatch up the case - oh God the stupid injection gun was heavier than he expected, but he had not known what to expect at all.

Desmond brought it back to his room, half cradling it like it was precious, but also managing to look like he didn't want anything to do with it at the same time. And then he was asking Adha to help him with it.

Adha chirped in concern, "Desmond?" she asked, sitting up. She'd pulled her tunic back into place when he'd left and really been concerned about where and why he'd gone. She'd wanted to go after him but she didn't know her way around Mars' house and didn't want to get lost in it.

When he came back and sat, with a case in his hand she chirped a little, "What is it?" she asked, though she had an idea. Desmond wasn't supposed to have gone that way. But she'd told him! She'd tried to get him to think with his head.

"Hormone injections." He popped open the carrying case, brow furrowing. Desmond really hated needles, and he hated the injections, but Mars couldn't know that he'd fucked Adha and actually got her pregnant. If he seemed on track it would basically be impossible. At least, those were his thoughts.

Desmond clicked one of the vials in place. Would one be enough? Mars only did one at a time, but two wouldn't do anything bad, would it? He had no idea. "I need you to put this on my arm and pull the trigger," Desmond gestured to the inside of his elbow, not trusting himself. Besides, he'd have to pull it with his thumb and it was awkward.

Adha frowned, "Why? Desmond this probably isn't a good idea," she really hoped he listened to her. He hadn't listened before. "You should just let Mars do it," she said even when Desmond put the injector into her hands.

"She can't know what we- what I just did, that you actually-" Desmond covered his face, huffing. "And I'm supposed to get one today, or... earlier today." He ran over the times Mars injected him, and felt like he was missing something else.

He reached back into the case, finding the little alcohol swabs, and cleaned the inside of his elbow with one. There were vague bruises there from previous injections.

"Desmond," Adha put the injector down. "You could really mess up your hormones if you do too many of these. I won't tell her," she pressed her hand just under his elbow. "You know how it works. By the time it matters everyone will think it was from my matchmaking mate. You don't have to do this," she didn't want him to hurt himself by doing this out of turn.

Desmond looked up at her, "But she didn't do one today, she's out." He put the swab down. "I'll do it myself if you won't." He picked it up again and held it out. "It's going to happen either way and I'm pretty sure it's late today anyway."

She grabbed the injector from his hands, "You idiot! You think Mars would just miss a day you were supposed to get hormones?" she demanded. "It's a council mandate that all breeders need to be ready for the assault as well as soldiers. She'd get into a lot of trouble if you weren't able to bear a child," she scowled at him. "You're not thinking right today," she pressed her hand to his cheek. "Or lately really," she didn't know why Desmond was acting like this.

"Obviously something's not working because I definitely bred you when I'm supposed to be going back to being a breeder! These are supposed to put me back!" Desmond almost made a grab for the gun back, but it didn't go much further than his fingers twitching. "They're breeder hormones so I can go back to being a breeder so I can actually do what the council wants from me - get bred by a soldier so they have their next line of angels ready when the casualties come in."

He didn't feel like he was even fully one or the other, and some far off, ignored part of him knew that injecting himself with the hormones wouldn't make him feel any more like a breeder for some time yet.

"Then trust your Keeper," she hissed at him and held the injector well out of reach. "She'll be home soon and you can ask her about your injections. But I'm not shooting you up like some human addict. This is serious and you could mess up your chemistry with too many injections," and she wouldn't put it past him to do several all at once.

Desmond actually snarled at her, wings unfolding while the feathers actually on his body pressed down flat. "Something's off and I need to fix it. There isn't time for me to fully switch again." If he did, there'd be no way he'd get back to breeding readiness in time, and it would be Mars who would be punished for it. It would make its way to Desmond too, because he'd be unable to keep quiet about fucking Adha with how guilty he'd feel.

"Just- I need to fix it," Desmond said again, a little more than desperate.

"Well I'm not doing it," Adha tossed the injector on the bed. "I already let you talk me into one bad situation; I'm not letting you talk me into another," and she got up from the bed. She tugged her backless tunic down and ran her fingers through her head feathers a few times so it didn't look like Desmond had just had his way with her. "Maybe I should just... leave?" she sort of asked.

He physically turned himself away from Adha, and didn't stand when she did. Nor did Desmond really make a comment one way or another when she asked if she should leave. He wanted her to go, but he also knew that she would probably stay if he was too eager to agree. But there was also something wrong and he knew it was the imbalanced hormones that didn't seem like they could fix themselves.

Adha frowned at Desmond. She'd half hoped he would ask her to stay. Clearly though he was more set on his stupid injection. She sighed. "I'll see you after the assault," she said because no way she was coming back here before then. Either Desmond switched or he didn't. She leaned down behind him, her small hands on his big shoulders, and put her face into his neck for a moment, "Tell Mars Ogoun called me home," she kissed his cheek, squeezed his shoulders, and left the room.

She wouldn't watch Desmond torment himself over this, what they'd done. Adha sighed as she got outside and looked down. She frowned again and pressed her hand to her flat stomach. Not much she could do about it. At the very least everyone would think she'd conceived when she was supposed to. She flared out her wings and jumped, heading back home.

He gave a quiet warble, kind of nuzzling against her until she let go and left. Desmond sat and stared at the discarded injection gun for some time before he actually moved and picked it up, legs tucked beneath him.

Desmond did manage to position his arm well enough to line it up correctly, and pulled the trigger before thinking too much about it. He whined about the pricking pain a little, and then disposed of the spent vial. Even if he did use another one, Mars would know. There were a few other cases somewhere that only had the hormone in them, but Mars only kept two of the capsules with the actual device. If he used both, she'd know he did something weird. Aside from take the initiative to keep himself on schedule.

He tucked the injector away, closed the case, and pushed it to the edge of his bed before curling up with his back to it, as if that would stop him from wanting to take the second dose.

When Mars came home he noticed how quiet it was. That was odd. Usually Adha and Desmond liked to sing to each other in that crazy old human-avian language. "Desmond," she called as she pulled the scarf from her head. "Where are you?"

With a grunt, Desmond roused himself and got up to greet Mars. The trill he made wasn't exactly the usual happy sound, but he was glad that she was home. "Ogoun called Adha home earlier. I was in my room." He fluffed his feathers and let them settle so they weren't mussed from him honestly not moving for a while.

"Ah," Mars said and went into his room. She sat on his bed. "You two have fun?" she asked.

He joined her there, inviting his head to her lap. Desmond smiled, "Yeah. Even though I had her help me stay on schedule with the hormones." His lips drew back over his teeth, and he buried his face against her leg.

"On sched- Desmond did you take an extra injection?" she asked him and frowned at him. "You're supposed to take one every other day," and yesterday had been his day. She sighed, "It isn't a big deal though," she added before Desmond thought he'd messed up. "But just let me do it okay?" she said and pet his head gently. "What'd you do while I was gone?" she asked changing subjects.

His wings twitched a little when he nodded. "We talked. About how the soldiers are assholes because their Keepers don't let them remember anything. Sang, cuddled, the stuff we usually do." Desmond shrugged with one of his wings.

Mars laughed, "You two are so gossipy I swear," she said and ruffled his head feathers. "Good, I'm glad you two were well behaved while I was gone. You've been very good lately," as she expected. He was being on his very best behavior. "Veles called me again," she said after a short time.

Desmond had been snuggling against her when she mentioned Veles, and sat upright. "Altair?" He asked, fully meaning something more along the lines of 'for matchmaking with Altair.' It didn't quite make it out eloquently.

Mars laughed again, "I told him you might not be available," she told him gently. "But he doesn't like putting Altair with other angels either," the first cycle Veles had given Altair his memories back in full for helping win a battle. Altair had been so mad that Veles had mated him with other angels that weren't Desmond or Adha he ended up getting killed in the next battle from being distracted by it. "I told him he might want to make arrangements with Ogoun if he can. You're still a bit wobbly right now but hopefully you'll be ready before the assault."

He frowned. "Adha already has a match." Desmond's wings twitched again and he fidgeted. "I have to be ready," he said, whining. It was Altair, he had to be ready. He felt pretty miserable for quite possibly setting himself back a few days with the stunt he pulled - but shit, he was a father for once, too.

"You will be," Mars promised him. "Week and a half more of injections and you're done," she patted his knee. Though they both knew it was a close cut. "Then I get to deal with having a baby angel in the house," she sighed. She didn't like children. Desmond was her exception, but she didn't even like his kids and baby angels were so... loud and squeaky.

Desmond cooed and chirped at Mars, pressing his nose against her cheek. "I'm always good with my fledgelings," he said, indignant. Mars just complained a lot.

"I know you are," Mars smiled at him, "but they're so loud," children were loud. She liked it when it was just her and Desmond and no babies, though she knew Desmond liked them. When he had a kid or Adha did he was nearly unbearably adorable. Though Desmond used the male pronouns he had just as much maternal instincts as any other breeder and if Adha ever brought her kid around when Desmond didn't have one it gave Mars actual cavities. It was really cute. So long as she didn't have to do anything with them.

She sighed and sat back, "So where's the injector? Since I know you have it since you never put anything back."

Desmond pointed to the case at the far side of his bed. "Um... I'm hungry - Adha and I didn't eat." He looked away, "Can I make something special?" Since he'd been so absolutely well behaved and he would have his chance with Altair.

Mars picked up the case and opened it. Just one of the injections was missing. Funny, she thought Adha would have been better about it and not let Desmond do this. She closed the case again. "Sure," she said and ran her hand once through Desmond's head feathers. "I'll be in my office if you need me," she patted his cheek and got up and left him to make his way to the kitchen.

He trilled quietly, brightening a bit. Desmond skittered into the kitchen, and began putting together something for himself to eat. Mars wasn't bad at cooking for an angel - well, cooking was putting it incredibly loosely. Other than bread, rice, couscous or quinoa, they didn't eat anything that was actually cooked. Desmond, personally, could hardly stomach vegetables, raw or cooked anymore, but fruit was definitely one of his favorites even though the fiber made him ache.

Desmond took the food - sweet and sour chunks of beef with a sliced up mango - and returned to his room.. He didn't care if it messed with his digestive system, he fucking loved mangos.


	37. Soak You In

Whoever Altair was expecting when he opened the door it wasn't the short proeathan who still looked like she could snap him in half with her tongue. What was she even wearing? He could see her knees. People let her get away with that? "Uh... hello," Altair said a bit awkwardly, "I'm-

"Altair. I know. We've been waiting for you, come in," she opened the enough for Altair to enter. "I'm Mars, Desmond is in his room."

He didn't... really want to be here. Malik had told him to just shut up and enjoy himself but Altair didn't really see how or why. Veles, his Keeper, had been very specific about what he was supposed to do and how he was supposed to do it and he wasn't to be his normal brash, soldier, self. Apparently Mars had threatened actual bodily harm if Altair was another Daniel. Altair knew who Daniel was but he didn't know what that meant. He assumed it was a bad thing. But really he would rather being off preparing for the assault. Instead he had to spend two or three days here canoodling with a breeder. Not just any breeder either; Desmond. He'd actually tried to convince Veles otherwise when he'd told Altair his matchmaking partner was Desmond.

As soon as he entered the house he could smell the other angel. The scent went right to his head to the point he was surprised. But then he'd never been around a breeder, other than his mother, this cycle. He was surprised how much he suddenly wanted to see Desmond. That was a sentence he never thought he'd think in his life.

"So, do I get to see him?" Altair asked.

"Yes, go sit," Mars ordered and pointed to a padded stool for angels. She sat across from him. "Desmond," she called.

Desmond peeked into the room before he actually came in. He was actually nervous, even a little shy. He hopped onto the second stool, wings folding at his back with a rustle. The tunic he was wearing was one of his better ones even though he knew it wouldn't matter what he wore to Altair.

It had only been a few days since his last injection, but there was no trace that he had been anything other than a breeder. Aside from his height. Desmond touched the scar on his lip, suddenly overly conscious of it.

Mars looked over the two angels and was satisfied that Desmond looked nothing like Altair. Sure he was still big but Altair had an air about him of a soldier and Desmond very much a breeder. She smiled a little, glad, and hooked a leg over her knee. "So, Altair, I assume Veles told you the rules?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said and she liked him already. Desmond never called her ma'am, though it did make her feel old.

"Good. I've had to go through a mess from one soldier already in the past month. You mess with my angel and I will make sure you don't get to go on the assault," her foot tapped the air.

Altair swallowed, "Yes, ma'am," he said.

She smiled, "Good. Desmond, you can do what you want. Don't scare him and don't antagonize him," she gave him a stern look. She knew she didn't have to tell him. This was Altair. He would literally bend over backwards for this angel and do whatever he could to make Altair like him. But she'd thought a bit similarly about Daniel and that had been a complete mess.

Desmond nodded. "I won't," he promised, though he really only had attention for Altair as usual. It was a stark contrast from how he went about dealing with Daniel. "You don't get to scare him off either." He shot a look at her, then glanced back at Altair. Desmond couldn't stop fidgeting. It was so stupid! Part of it, Desmond thought he could blame on the fact that he'd pretty much been boosted on hormones.

"I'm the Keeper here. I can do whatever I want," Mars said as she got up from her chair. "I'm going to relax, don't break anything," she ran her fingers through Desmond's head feathers as she walked past and out of the room.

He frowned at her, but still cooed softly when she ruffled his feathers. Desmond slid off of the stool and moved over to Altair, tugging him off of his seat. "Do you want anything? Before you decide you don't want to leave my room."

Altair's mouth just sort of opened and closed a few times to that. Like did that... did Desmond really just say that to him? At that moment though he couldn't actually think of anything. His brain was just off because Desmond was less than five feet from him and he smelled like something Altair needed to lick and bury his face in. He honestly couldn't even explain it or why he wanted to do that so badly either. Desmond had never smelled like this all the times Altair had seen him or been within easy sniffing range. Since when the hell did the older angel have any right to smell so good?

He squeezed his eyes shut; focus. Desmond clearly knew what he was talking about though so maybe he should take that 'don't want to leave my room' seriously. But he couldn't think of anything. Veles had told him breeders knew what they were doing when it came to sex and that he shouldn't actually try to do anything unless prompted to. Desmond was prompting him but every thought was currently out of his head.

He opened his eyes a few seconds later. "I don't... no," he said and shook his head. No he didn't need anything. He just wanted to get an upclose and personal inspection of Desmond's smell.

Desmond didn't feel like he had to hold his knowledge over Altair, he never really had even though he complained about it all the time. If he was totally honest, it was kind of adorable - Altair was completely enthralled. His wings twitched, and he moved away again, toward his room.

His feathers were held out somewhat, spread as if he were waiting for the exact moment to jump into the wind. Of course, he wouldn't be, but it showed how acutely aware he was.

Altair wouldn't admit to it later, but he flailed a little to get off the stool, his big wings tripping him a little. He followed a few paces behind Desmond and wasn't really... quite sure why. He'd scoffed at Malik about this but now he saw why Malik told him he was an idiot. He really didn't know anything. Angels were creatures driven by hormones, instinct, and the songs of their Keepers and right now two of those three were in high gear for Altair. He didn't even know how this entire thing was supposed to happen (Veles told him breeders had a much longer courtship than soldiers did) all he knew was he was ready to mate.

There was a curious twitter of a chirp out of Desmond's mouth, and he flopped down on his bed. The mess of pillows he had been moved and rearranged, but it was still very much a nest. Probably even more, considering he was in a state equivalent to being in heat, and he was with a soldier - Altair, no less.

Desmond beckoned him with his wings, spreading them in a low sweep. Altair smelled pretty damn good himself. Desmond was just better at not letting it get to him, but he really wanted to press his nose against his skin, preen his feathers and sing quiet nonsense at him. And for Altair, it would be like nothing he'd ever experienced before - as long as he could stop the soldier from just fucking him raw.

The smell in Desmond's room was intensified. He could smell Desmond here clearly but also Mars and a bit more faded was another angel. Altair was used to the smell of other soldiers everywhere in his life. But this wasn't a soldier, he could tell even from how faded it was, like they hadn't visited in a week or so, another breeder like Desmond. They smelled good too.

He tore his eyes away from Desmond briefly, just to look around, there were plants in the room and a few, gleaming, weapons on the wall. Everything looked well tended to, and clearly Desmond took care of everything he owned. He looked back at the older angel and sat on the bed.

"My Keeper told me to not do anything unless you told me to," Altair said. Veles had said that, but not quite like that. He'd said some other soldier had already botched his matchmaking with Desmond because one; he was picky, and two; the soldier had gone way too fast. Altair didn't know how he was going to work around the picky part but Veles hadn't seemed concerned, so Altair tried not to be. Veles had told him to let Desmond lead and that if he started doing too much too fast not only would Mars rain down hell upon both of them but Veles would make his next cycle very unpleasant. So Altair was just being honest, he didn't know what he was doing, and his Keeper had told him so, and so he was just going to sit there until Desmond told him it was okay, no matter how badly he wanted to lick him.

Desmond cooed again, smiling a little. "It's fine. You just have to not do what I tell you not to do. I say no to something, you stop doing it, but you're lucky," He looked away, wings still open, but angled in an inviting way rather than aggressively. "I like you, you'll probably get away with a lot."

"You have to get used to me. Well... you, I mean... because you don't... you've never been with a breeder." He moved closer to Altair, on the balls of his feet. "We won't... really do anything until tomorrow - you'll know when I'm really ready, you'll be able to tell."

"Okay," Altair said but he was honestly sort of confused. He wouldn't even begin to say he was nice to Desmond. Or ever had been. He wasn't. In all honesty he was a jerk to Desmond and found him annoying and freaky and wished he'd just fuck off. He'd been really surprised when Veles had told him who he was mating with. He told Veles about Desmond and how much he wished Desmond would just fuck off and leave him alone. But he was an asshole to Desmond.

"Why do you like me?" Altair asked, confused, "I've never been nice to you," because he hadn't. He liked to think he wasn't mean at least, but he wasn't nice to Desmond. The only 'mean' thing he'd really ever done was give Desmond that scar on his lip. Something ticked in the back of his mind he knew was a blocked memory. He didn't know what it was but he felt smug that it had actually scarred.

There was a fleeting look of sadness behind his eyes, and Desmond shuffled his wings. "You don't know, and you know there's a reason there are things you don't know - it doesn't matter." Desmond's gaze lit slowly, and it was mirrored in his feathers.

Desmond was close enough now to touch the scar on Altair's lip, and he did, head tipped to the side. It meant a lot more to Desmond than it did to Altair, with the way he was now. He wondered if it always meant more to him even when Altair's memory wasn't blocked. "I do wish you'd at least tolerate me when we aren't just acting on hormones," he muttered. "You don't have to take me seriously, you probably never will." Or never had.

It wasn't the time to bring up the fact that he was just as capable as Altair, and just as much a fighter. Though, with the air practically saturated with both party's hormones, it was hard to believe so. "You don't have to ask to touch me, just tell me what you're thinking."

Altair pursed his lips a little. He sort of knew that he and Desmond had history but he just wasn't privy to it. He knew because Desmond wouldn't spend so much time with an asshole like him if they weren't friends in another life. "For the record; I tolerate you a lot," Altair said. "Even when you fucking stare at me like a weirdo from the side of the practice court," that was literally Altair's least favorite thing ever. He hated when Desmond did that but one of the rules of the Academy was that unless you were instructed otherwise you were to ignore anyone else around you. Especially if they were a breeder who wasn't even supposed to be there.

He huffed. He wasn't here to be a jerk. He was here because they'd been paired together. Altair looked down because Veles had told him not to be an asshole. Malik had told him that too. Breeders weren't used to and didn't usually tolerate how crass and rude soldiers could be. So. Don't be an asshole.

Altair let his wings relax and sag against the nest bed. Desmond wanted to know what he was thinking? "Honestly I just want to smell you," he said and hoped that didn't sound weird. He'd smelled Desmond before, his scent often lingered on the sidelines of the training court. It never smelled like this. It never smelled this good.

"I like watching you. I got to watch you grow up for once." Well, it was sparingly, but Altair was fucking adorable when he was just barely out of his fluff. Desmond shrugged, settling down to sit completely again and pull Altair closer. "You can. You're actually... really well behaved." He liked that. Aside from the fact that the behavior was also cute.

"Despite what you, my Keeper, and my mentor think; I can be very well behaved," though he was interested in the fact that Desmond said he could. He didn't miss the fact that Desmond said that this time he got to watch Altair grow up and be awkward adolescence and have fluff and christ that was mortifying. Though Altair hadn't seen him till he was older that he could remember since he'd mostly grown up in the academy and only other soldiers were really allowed in the academy.

Altair leaned forward onto his hands and knees and edged himself closer before realizing that really, he was allowed to touch Desmond without having to worry about doing something wrong. So he pressed his nose against Desmond's chest and inhaled. He liked this smell so much. Altair couldn't exactly place the smell or why he liked it but it sort of reminded him of his mother weirdly enough. Clearly it was a breeder scent and obviously angels like Altair were drawn to it. His closed his eyes happily.

Desmond reached up and carefully combed through Altair's feathers, smoothing them back against his head. His cooing was more like a low, steady sound. Almost like a purr. "I know." One of his wings folded around Altair.

After that, Desmond's hands wandered, from cradling his head to rubbing his shoulders, or finding the patch of feathers on Altair's back, between his wings.

Altair made a pleased sound and pressed up closer to Desmond to bury his face in the feathers on Desmond's chest. He nuzzled his chest and then moved to smooth skin and ran his tongue against it because he couldn't help himself. Desmond's skin tasted like skin, which was disappointing. That didn't stop Altair from enjoying Desmond's smell though and literally wanting to rub all over him to get Desmond's good smell on him. He assumed that was normal.

He pushed Desmond back a bit, stopped to make sure that was all right, and then pushed him back further so he could lean over Desmond and rub his face against his chest and neck and even down to his soft belly. His feathers stood up, and he knew they weren't making him look intimidating so much as making him look like a giant fluff ball.

When Altair leaned him back, Desmond hummed, the glowing feathers matching his heart beat. It spiked a bit, but he was honestly a little curious. Altair was a little different each time he came back, and he assumed it was because blocking memories wasn't an exact science. He was a lot less pushier this time, and unlike with Daniel, he felt safe letting Altair explore him and his instincts without him getting ahead of himself.

Desmond gently teased Altair's feathers, tracing the edges of them. He stopped trying to smooth them out when they began to rise. What he couldn't stop was the soft cooing at him.

Altair sat up abruptly and looked down at Desmond. "My mentor's been with a breeder more than once this cycle," since unlike Altair Malik wasn't a virgin. "He said his mate liked to kiss him. How do you kiss?" Soldiers didn't kiss. It wasn't something they did in general even when they experimented. No kissing. They barely even looked at each other during sex. Kissing was a thing Altair had only heard about and seen his Keeper do with his wife on the lips, or kiss his daughter on the cheek.

He smiled a small, almost amused kind of smile, and pulled Altair close to his face. He was just too fucking cute, it was unfair. Desmond pushed himself up a little more, one hand still cupped against the side of his head, and kissed him. He took it slow, teaching him by doing. Desmond couldn't resist licking Altair's upper lip, tongue flicking over the scar before pushing into his mouth.

Desmond gave another push against Altair's mouth, and then withdrew somewhat, breath just a little more forceful. He couldn't help littering a few more partially open-mouthed kisses against the corner of his mouth and his chin, thumb rubbing over Altair's cheek.

Altair's breath was a bit heavy when Desmond pulled away. He hadn't been expecting anything like that. He blinked several times in surprise just sort of sorting himself out about that. The whole tongue in mouth thing was sort of unsettling but Desmond had done it so he didn't think that it was too weird. He liked the way Desmond tasted though. Unlike his skin Desmond's mouth tasted good and like how he smelled.

All in all, Altair decided he liked kissing and no wonder soldiers didn't do it because it was soft. Soldiers were a lot of things. Soft wasn't one of them. Desmond was soft all over. Altair liked that. He wanted to find all of Desmond's soft spots.

He kissed Desmond again carefully. He wasn't very good at this and kudos to Desmond for putting up for him. All of this was going to be him stumbling through all these soft things for the first time and he just hoped he didn't try Desmond's nerve.

Desmond didn't really take over, but he kind of guided and prompted Altair, and definitely let him know when he liked something. Either with a soft noise or a slight squeeze. He didn't have to do much, and was honestly totally fine with letting Altair figure it out on his own. There was something weirdly calming about it, probably that Altair was his mate, and he always somehow fit just right.

He could spend hours like this, sucking on Altair's tongue, kissing him, rubbing his shoulders, chest and arms. "What else do you want to know?" Desmond asked, knowing Altair would not be so satisfied.

"I dunno I'm kinda really into this," Altair said, breath slightly ragged. He was into this making out thing. He started and sat up straight. He had no concept of making out so that meant some part of his memory had leached through for him to even know what it was. He sagged just a little then because he just let it pass. Wasn't important. If the memory would come it would and there was no forcing it.

"Is there other stuff?" he asked and flared his big wings out a little.

Desmond shrugged. "Cuddling, preening... not really," he admitted, reaching up to touch the large feathers on Altair's wings. His own were half spread on the bed, mostly just to keep them from getting caught under him. "I want to be close to you just as much as you want to be close to me," he said, having successfully kept back a whine at Altair's sudden withdrawal. He was talking more about the urge to try and tuck himself securely against Altair, and Altair's partnered urge to pretty much bury himself in Desmond's scent and feathers.

He coaxed Altair back, not quite pulling, but getting just a little more insistent with his hands.

Altair was willing to go. He nuzzled against Desmond's neck since that seemed like a place where the smell was concentrated. He ran his tongue along Desmond's neck even though he knew the smell didn't translate to taste, but he did it anyway. He let himself lay out on top of Desmond taking his words seriously.

He chirped, and it faded into a warble when Altair licked him. Desmond's wings twitched, and everything was absolutely fine. Even though he didn't need the golden feathers glowing to pique Altair, they were the most accurate visual cue to his interest. As a cue in general, they were second to his scent. Desmond knew that his body would need a day before accepting that Altair was to be his mate.

It wasn't like him and Adha, where Desmond knew how to manipulate her body to set her up just right. On the other hand, though, he didn't have the heart to tell Altair exactly how to do it. He wanted to spend time with him, not fuck as soon as possible just to watch him leave again like it was an impersonal affair. Desmond was content to just lie beneath him, cooing with his chin tucked against Altair's head.

When Desmond moved Altair lifted his head to make sure everything was alright. His eyes caught the glint of golden feathers. Altair knew Desmond had golden, shiny, feathers mixed in with his normal ones. He'd seen Desmond with spread wings and flying. They weren't new. But they had a completely different (distracting) context.

He sort of sat up and then reached over to run his fingers across the golden feathers. Altair realized that there was probably strong scents in Desmond's wings and pressed his face down into them. Sure enough there was. He hummed happily and ended on a chirp. He was like a cat and Desmond was catnip. He just wanted to roll all over him. "Shiny," he said more to himself and ran his fingers across some of the golden feathers. He liked them.

Desmond ended up with both wings around Altair, even with his face buried in his feathers. He twittered and chirped himself, as if responding to the sounds Altair made conversationally.

"Do you want one?" he asked softly, interrupting the wordless almost-singing noises he was making.

Altair looked at him in surprise, "I can have one?" he asked. He hadn't expected that. Giving another angel your feathers wasn't just something you did lightly. Except when they molted once a year angels kept close stock of their feathers since they literally needed every one to fly.

The only light under his wings was the glow radiating from those feathers, his eyes, and the markings on his arm. "You're my mate," Desmond responded, like that explained everything. "You're always my mate."

Altair blinked. Veles had never mentioned something like that. Most angels were put together as needed or to see how a certain set of genes worked out as a child. But if he and Desmond were always mates that was something more. Altair sat up and squeezed his eyes shut. He suddenly had a massive headache. He knew that was his past lives trying to get through and be remembered. "Stop," he sort of groaned, both to the incessant memories and to Desmond.

In the academy memories were controlled so that you know knew what you needed to know. Talk about past lives wasn't even discussed because it could trigger an attack like this. Altair whined, his head hurt so bad and he leaned down so he was folded over his knees, holding his head, forehead on the bed. His wings came up over him between him and Desmond. He was just trying to forget, to push the flood pressing against the dam back.

Angels could do things no other creatures could do; they could actively forget a memory. Altair was doing that now. Desmond bringing up what they had been, clearly close, probably life-mates, had triggered him and now he just wanted to forget all of it. Including what Desmond had just said. But there was a lot of delete. He'd get them back later. But now he couldn't have them, he needed to be focused.


	38. How it Should Be

Desmond clicked his tongue. It had been stupid to bring that up, even if it had been unthinkingly. He had ways of fixing it - or rather, he knew how most Keepers blocked those memories.

He gently tugged Altair's wings apart, knowing the strain of actively forgetting. There was no expression on his face, nothing that linked him directly to Altair's memories of him aside from his appearance. Desmond cooed something in a language that wasn't exactly words. Their Keepers used artifacts, mostly owning ones such as the Apple. Desmond's proficiency with weaponizing them gave him plenty of insight to how they functioned, and though he could not replicate the effect, he could mimic its 'voice' like a magpie mimicking a different bird.

The glow intensified, and then stopped when he did. Desmond let go of Altair's wings and withdrew.

Altair opened his eyes and was sort of confused. There was always a momentary confusion after a memory purge. His wings flared a little and he quickly sorted out his head. He knew he'd just done a memory purge but everything from the last few minutes was wiped. He thought at least. It was hard to tell time after a purge. He just knew he was missing time. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?" though he knew Desmond knew what had just happened. Desmond wouldn't bring up what had triggered him, but Altair didn't know how to come back from a purge. It happened so infrequently.

"It wasn't important." Desmond didn't look upset about it. He was, but he wouldn't for Altair's sake. His head tipped to the side, and he chose to kiss him again rather than elaborate.

Altair grunted, now surprised. Okay. He could like this. He was completely awful at it but he liked it. Something told him he should know how to do this. Took him about a minute to get the memories he'd just had about kissing Desmond to trickle back in. Well that was embarrassing. He'd forgotten how to kiss. Not like he hadn't just learned it recently but still.

"I'll remind you about it after the assault," Altair said, since that would be when he'd get all his memories back, including whatever the hell he'd just thrown out of his head. He nuzzled against Desmond's neck because he smelled nice. A not so little part of him knew he'd be smelling like Desmond when he left here, and he didn't mind one bit. Breeders smelled safe. Altair wouldn't mind that.

Desmond trilled softly, more or less letting Altair do what he wanted. "You don't have to. You just have to come back," he answered, mostly mumbling. The glow didn't come back until he actually keened - Altair pressing his nose and lips against his neck was just as good, but it wasn't enough.

Altair hmmed against Desmond's neck, enjoying the thick scent on Desmond's neck and throat and behind his ear, but he picked up on Desmond's restlessness. "Is everything okay?" he asked asked, sitting back. "Am I doing something wrong?" or not doing something enough? He was still a fish out of water, especially since he'd just purged a whole batch of memories.

Altair opened his eyes and was sort of confused. There was always a momentary confusion after a memory purge. His wings flared a little and he quickly sorted out his head. He knew he'd just done a memory purge but everything from the last few minutes was wiped. He thought at least. It was hard to tell time after a purge. He just knew he was missing time. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?" though he knew Desmond knew what had just happened. Desmond wouldn't bring up what had triggered him, but Altair didn't know how to come back from a purge. It happened so infrequently.

"It wasn't important." Desmond didn't look upset about it. He was, but he wouldn't for Altair's sake. His head tipped to the side, and he chose to kiss him again rather than elaborate.

Altair grunted, now surprised. Okay. He could like this. He was completely awful at it but he liked it. Something told him he should know how to do this. Took him about a minute to get the memories he'd just had about kissing Desmond to trickle back in. Well that was embarrassing. He'd forgotten how to kiss. Not like he hadn't just learned it recently but still.

"I'll remind you about it after the assault," Altair said, since that would be when he'd get all his memories back, including whatever the hell he'd just thrown out of his head. He nuzzled against Desmond's neck because he smelled nice. A not so little part of him knew he'd be smelling like Desmond when he left here, and he didn't mind one bit. Breeders smelled safe. Altair wouldn't mind that.

Desmond trilled softly, more or less letting Altair do what he wanted. "You don't have to. You just have to come back," he answered, mostly mumbling. The glow didn't come back until he actually keened - Altair pressing his nose and lips against his neck was just as good, but it wasn't enough.

Altair hmmed against Desmond's neck, enjoying the thick scent on Desmond's neck and throat and behind his ear, but he picked up on Desmond's restlessness. "Is everything okay?" he asked asked, sitting back. "Am I doing something wrong?" or not doing something enough? He was still a fish out of water, especially since he'd just purged a whole batch of memories.

"You're fine," Desmond murmured. His wings twitched, and he dragged Altaïr back. "Stop thinking about it."

He pushed up against Altair's hips with his own, hissing. Seriously, soldiers were so sex stupid. Desmond purred, grinding against him again. He'd be fine falling asleep curled up against Altaïr with just that, but he was pretty damn ready.

"Sorry," Altair said, some of his feathers perked up when Desmond pushed against him. That felt good though in not the way he was expecting. So he just went back to what he had been doing which was kissing Desmond's neck and running his hands up the line of Desmond's back.

Desmond cooed, sinking back into Altair's hands. Other than that, he was more or less silent, eyes slipping closed. He resolved not to tell Altair what he should do. Besides, he wasn't doing anything uncomfortable, and letting him explore was honestly the most adorable he had ever remembered Altair even being.

After mapping out Desmond's back and sides and the parts of the wings he could reach with his hands, and turning the side of Desmond's neck into a red mark, Altair pushed him back onto the bed. He pressed his face into the feathers on Desmond's chest, enjoying the scent. He still didn't know why he found Desmond's scent so enjoyable in the same way he found another soldier's slightly repugnant. But he did.

He wound his fingers through the feathers on Altair's head, purring up a storm beneath him. Desmond's hips twitched, and he warbled at him, barely steps away from outright keening.

Altair kissed parts of Desmond skin he could reach and purred himself. He wasn't a breeder like Desmond but all angels liked getting preened of having fingers in their feathers. He laid his head on Desmond's chest as Desmond pet his head and listened to the beat of Desmond's heart which beat faster than a human's or proeathan. More like the beating heart of a bird.

"Do you want more?" Desmond asked, wings twitching. He, of course, did, but Altair had no real concept aside from the fact that sex happened somehow. He had also begun to maneuver the slightly larger soldier to switch their positions.

Altair perked up, his feathers fluffing out a little all over, "More? You said there wasn't really any more," except the sex part but he'd concluded by now that that was a ways off. Desmond had said he'd know when Desmond was ready to mate and so far he wasn't really getting the vibe.

Desmond almost laughed. "Come on, there's more to touch than just my chest," he said, nuzzling against Altair's jaw. His wings flared a bit and he grabbed Altair's hand, leading it along his front.

It wouldn't hurt while he was basically leading the soldier by the hand, but he really, really liked how Altair's fingers felt between his legs. Desmond's hips twitched even more than his wings did, and the soft warble in his throat wasn't lost too badly between his breaths.

"Oh," Altair said and quickly got the idea. He had to remind himself though that this wasn't one of his fellow soldiers he could rough up. This was a breeder. He knew how to bend someone into a knot but he couldn't do that here.

"So, like this?" he asked sort of between Desmond's legs and ran his hands along the outside. He kept the sharp parts of his claws away from the delicate skin though. Desmond kept trying to press against him so Altair figured he might as well give Desmond to move against. He pulled Desmond's legs around his waist and ran his hands up his thighs.

He purred, and it was a low rumble of a sound that had Desmond's feathers fluffed but not quite bristling. The noise itself was like a growl, starting rough and deep in his chest, but by the time it got to his mouth, it was softened and warbling. When his eyes opened fully, they were glowing again, but it was darker than before.

Desmond didn't seem to mind much that Altair's fingers kept straying. He'd fit himself rather nicely against the mound of the soldier's pubic arch. It wasn't fair. Altair wasn't supposed to be… that arousing. At least, not mentally, but there he was, next to clueless and Desmond found it surprisingly attractive.

Any breeder could be physically aroused by a soldier, that was how they were made. It took some coercion, and not many needed to actually feel as if they liked their company. Of course, Desmond refused any other partner, and was one of the picky few who felt like they needed to be wholly invested - and Altair was the soldier he wanted to invest himself in. It made him desperate and useless otherwise, and he knew it, would even admit it and the fact that he hated it, but it was a totally different story when Altair was actually there, and reacting to him even if it was only because he was a breeder.

"Paying attention?" Desmond murmured, mouth at Altair's ear. He made space between the both of them, just enough for him to fit his hand against Altair's body. There was no need for him to look to see what he was doing, Desmond's fingers knew the best way to slide against the side of his sheath so it felt really damn good.

Altair's head jerked up and he squeaked. Actually squeaked like he was a stupid fledgling again full of fluffy down feathers and barely enough memories to fill one life. His wings and feathers went up, flaring, and then they smoothed down and he cooed happily, his eyes lidding.

Okay that felt really good. Usually when soldiers experimented they just beat eachother up to put the other in submission before fucking them. It felt good, briefly, but they never tried to actually make each other feel good. "Yeah," he moaned a little, his voice trembling slightly. How the hell did Desmond do that?

He grinned, kissing and gently biting at Altair's neck. It was more like he was dragging his teeth against his skin than anything. Desmond only played with his cloaca because he knew how good it felt, but he kept it to a minimum because it was also one of the easiest ways to piss off a soldier.

Something about it being too much like a breeder. Not that any of them remembered that both of them were just as apt when it came to fighting, and honestly, using the entire area was common for both castes. It was really only one of the few reasons Desmond hated that they weren't allowed to remember anything.

Desmond ran his thumb over the slit of Altair's sheath again, actually somewhat surprised that he wasn't even peeking from it.

Altair chirped happily and rocked his hips forward. He really liked that. He didn't quite know what Desmond was doing but he knew he as touching a part of his anatomy he previously didn't know could feel that good. Yeah he knew it could feel good but Desmond was just touching it. Altair wanted Desmond to touch him like that more and a lot more. "That feels really good," he groaned and rocked his hips against Desmond again.

The feathers on Desmond's head rose and he cooed back at him, just as happy to keep rubbing him as long as he enjoyed it so much. "You could try doing it to me - I mean, you are supposed to mate with me," he said, still wary of actually penetrating Altair with his fingers. It didn't mean he didn't tease the fuck out of him, nearly whimpering with how it was affecting Altair.

"Mmmm?" Altair asked, cocking his head to the side. "Okay," he said because he was just listening and doing whatever Desmond wanted him to do basically. Veles had said that. Just do with his mate told him when he told him. He flexed one of his hands and actually felt what Desmond was doing. He noted that Desmond was being careful with his.

Altair sat up, because unlike Desmond Altair needed to see what he was doing. He ran his fingers slowly down Desmond's chest and stomach. He pushed up Desmond's tunic so he could see what he was doing, hiking it up Desmond's ribs. "So, like this?" he asked and being careful of his claws pressed his finger against it.

Desmond shuddered, trying not to let his hips roll too forcefully against Altair's fingers. He sighed a soft "Yeah," and pressed his hand against Altair's sheath. "You don't look like you're ready though." He nuzzled against him, and stole a couple of quick kisses from him.

"Don't you want to fuck me?" Desmond punctuated the question by actually sliding his index finger into Altair, incredibly mindful of his talons.

Altair went rigid. He didn't get a lot of the things he and Desmond but this he knew he didn't like. His feathers bristled, and there was a big difference between flared feathers and when they bristled, though only really angels could tell the difference. He growled a little, "Whatever you're doing, stop it," he said and narrowed his eyes at Desmond. If Desmond didn't he was going to make Desmond stop.

He had the audacity to snicker, and when he pulled his hand away, dragged his fingers over each little inch of sensitive skin. Desmond met Altair's irritated glare with a glowing, dangerously aroused look. "You liked it so much earlier," he murmured, "and that isn't much of an answer."

Altair let his feathers lay flat since Desmond wasn't doing the thing he didn't like. "You said we weren't going to mate till tomorrow," he said because Desmond had.

Desmond slumped, and it wasn't just that he kind of sank back, his wings slouched too. "We can have sex more than just once," he said. "If you don't want it, then fine, we won't." He hated telling Altair when he was ready. It was supposed to be obvious, and Altair was supposed to want to fuck him.

"We can?" Altair asked, the feathers on his head going up a little. He'd been trying to be on his best behavior. So just… holding back really until Desmond told him it was okay. Altair sat back on his calves, "I uh… wouldn't mind," he glanced down as he unsheathed fully. He'd been keeping it back since Desmond had said tomorrow and he didn't want to be pushy. But really as soon as he'd stepped into Mars' house he'd been aroused. Now it was just obvious.

He made a soft sound that wasn't exactly cooing, and his wings rose up again. Honestly, Altair's self control was surprising and actually kind of hot. Desmond's reaction was more driven by Altair's caste and the fact that he'd unsheathed. "Stop thinking about it, just stop."

His body had already forgotten Daniel's rough misuse, and even though Altair was just as clueless as he had been, Desmond was more than ready. "You don't think about what you're doing when you fight," he said, "you just do it." He sidled up against Altair again, up on his knees, "Just like you don't need to think about it when you fuck." He knew Altair had to have been absolutely aching.

"I'm just doing what you told me to do," Altair said, like Velas had told him too. "And I don't think you want me to do to you what I do in a fight," because he fucked up other angels in a fight. Yeah he wasn't as old but his past lives were all lined up in a row to make him a fighting machine. Most soldiers were flawless in a fight, Altair was no different, since he had centuries and centuries of ability and memory and training behind him. "I'm not supposed to hurt you," he said.

Desmond almost snorted. "I know how you fight, and I also know you won't. You don't remember the finer details, but your body does." He prodded Altair's chest. "Besides, I'm not a threat to you." He was a willing and aroused mate, and he wasn't actively trying to anger Altair like he had Daniel. Though it didn't help that he did often enjoy being handled roughly.

He dragged himself against Altair, wings spreading while his feathers flared a bit. "It's fine," Desmond purred, "I can fuck myself if you're that worried you'll hurt me." His grin was more of a toothy smirk.

He didn't quite know what that meant, but Altair knew he wanted to see Desmond do that. He wasn't worried about hurting Desmond exactly, more like he'd forget his own strength. Breeders weren't exactly made of the same stuff as soldiers. Yeah they were sturdier than humans or proeathans but soldiers were strong enough to break each other's bones. "Okay," he said and licked his lips.

Desmond pulled away somewhat, and took a few moments to make sure he was actually ready. It wasn't exactly necessary, but more of a habit. He didn't warn Altair before sinking down on his cock with a shaky, heated warble. Doing it like that, taking all of him in pretty much one go hurt as much as it felt good. He could stand being fucked furiously and violently, so it didn't exactly injure him, but it definitely felt better than the former.

The golden feathers littered across his wings flickered, making the skip in his pulse visible. Desmond really meant it when he said he would fuck himself, and didn't even give himself time to adjust before moving. His wings weren't raised so much as they were splayed low around them.

Altair squawked in surprise when Desmond straddled him and pushed himself onto him. Then he moaned because it was good. It really didn't feel like another soldier and thank goodness. It felt completely and utterly amazing though. He gasped and grasped at Desmond's back, low, happy, noises escaping his mouth each time Desmond moved.

He wasn't going to admit it to Malik later; but Malik was totally right about breeders.

Desmond was a lot better at doing this himself than most soldiers were on their own. He keened, wings trembling somewhat as they flicked back. His feathers were fluffed out, and he was urging Altair to actually grab and pull them even further.

He groaned happily because it felt good and one hand cupped Desmond's ass with one hand, the other grabbed one of Desmond's wings and yanked it down making all the muscles and tendons in Desmond's back bend and bow. His hips jerked upwards a bit, grunting needily and squeezed Desmond's ass, maybe being not so mindful of his claws as he shouldn't have been. Altair put his head over Desmond's shoulder, face pressed into Desmond's wing and pushed his hips up and Desmond's wing down whenever Desmond did. He whined happily each time he pushed up.

The sounds he made were more like twittering chirps than moans. Desmond tightened around him in response to the claws pricking his cheeks, but he wasn't irritated about it. Scratches were a usual kind of thing, and Desmond never really minded them.

He met each upward thrust of Altair's hips by grinding down against him. Really, he'd meant to speak in a way Altair would understand him, but his voice was a mess of trills and cooing. It was clear that he swore, though. More than once.

Altair answered Desmond back with his own trills and cooing, running his fingers through one of Desmond's wings and clenched Desmond's ass, thrusting upwards quickly. All at once he gasped and buried his face into Desmond's neck and shoved his wing down.

He breathed deeply into Desmond's skin, moaning softly. Oh fuck that felt good. He melted against Desmond, and let go of his ass and wing.

Desmond wasn't anywhere near as finished as Altair was. He actually growled a little, still rocking on him until he couldn't get anything else out of the soldier. His wings flared and he moved away from Altair to finish himself, fully expecting Altair to just pass out like that, and kind of ceased paying him any mind. Not while he was coaxing himself out of his sheath with one hand and minding his claws while fucking himself on the other.

Altair flopped down onto Desmond's bed and closed his eyes for a few moments but didn't sleep. He felt really tired but he figured it'd be rude if he just fell asleep on Desmond. When he opened his eyes again Desmond wasn't even paying attention to him. He frowned. Right now he was liking Desmond paying attention to him.

Altair pushed himself to his hands and knees and literally pushed himself into Desmond's space so the breeder couldn't ignore him, pressing up against his back between his wings. He pressed his nose behind Desmond's ear before looking at what he was doing. Well shit even he couldn't screw up touching Desmond's dick, he could do that. He pressed his hand around Desmond's before just pushing it away. He squeezed Desmond's penis firmly and jerked him off with even strokes.

He whimpered and turned toward Altair's face. Desmond's fingers wound into the feathers on Altair's head, and managed to match the rhythm of the soldier's hand. "I thought… you were just going to fall asleep," Desmond managed, wings twitching. It was a nice turn of events, even if Altair's hand was just a tad rougher than his own.

"Not if you're not going to pay attention to me," Altair said, because it was true. In his mind he should be the most interesting thing to Desmond right now just like Desmond was to him. Falling asleep wasn't going to get him attention so it was counter productive to what he wanted. At least Desmond was liking what he was doing. So he just kept doing it, cooing gentle encouragement to Desmond who clearly didn't need it.

Desmond let out a slow, hitching breath, and there was a near-apology on his lips. He smiled and tugged him closer to kiss him. It took him a little longer to reach his orgasm, but when he did, he keened, and it sounded suspiciously like Altair's name.

Altair grinned as Desmond grabbed onto him tightly when he finally came. He kissed and sucked on Desmond's neck, wringing out all the good feelings from Desmond's dick. He didn't even bother to ask if it was okay, from the noises Desmond was making it was clearly great.

He curled against Altair, cooing and almost whining. Desmond knew, just like Adha had, that he'd been successfully bred. He didn't exactly have to tell Altair that, and he probably wouldn't until later on tomorrow. Right now he kind of just wanted to tangle himself in Altair's limbs and fall asleep to the sound of his breathing.

Altair wrapped his arms and wings around Desmond when the breeder started to snuggle up against him. Altair liked this, and the attention. After a moment Altair pulled the both of them down onto Desmond's. Now he knew he could take that nap he'd wanted to because now Desmond wasn't preoccupied with something that wasn't him. He found himself a comfortable position and closed his eyes. He'd sleep for just a little while.


	39. Don't Go

Desmond roused before Altair, and he wasn't really all that surprised. What did surprise him is that neither of them shifted too much while they slept, but he wriggled his way out of Altair's arms so he could run his fingers through the feathers on the soldier's head. He wasn't quite sure when he started, but Desmond began singing softly.

They'd… had a lot of sex, but he wouldn't admit that he probably worked Altair absolutely raw. Desmond cooed, gently scratching at Altair's scalp while he sang. He didn't really want to wake Altair up because it meant he'd have to leave, but Mars didn't really like him keeping Altair bedded for longer than necessary. Especially after a night like that.

While Desmond didn't need Altair around while he was actually carrying the child, he kind of liked his company. Even if he didn't remember that Desmond was practically attached to him at the hip. He told himself that it was only because he had to spend so long with an Altair that knew nothing of their relationship. Honestly, he never remembered being this clingy or needy.

Altair normally slept light and woke with the sun. Last night though Altair had slept like a rock. He dreamed of his mother (his mother this cycle at least), singing to him to wake up. Altair opened his eyes slowly, his eyelids felt like lead and were heavy and hard to open. There was singing, but it wasn't his mother, it was Desmond. Altair honestly couldn't even think about mating now, though his body was still in the drive to do so. He was just sort of sore and couldn't believe Desmond seemed to not be in some sort of pain from how much sex they'd had last night.

He chirped sleepily, blinking up at Desmond tiredly. He blinked a few times before shifting a little to put his head in Desmond's lap. "I don't want to have sex ever again," he complained in a low whine.

Continuing to card his fingers through Altair's feathers, Desmond laughed softly. "Somehow I don't think you'll actually adhere to that." He hummed, idly tracing designs against his scalp. Sure, Desmond ached a little - well, more than just a little - but he didn't mind it. He was warm, and Altair was in his lap. He didn't want much more than that.

Desmond blinked down at him and stopped singing.

Altair thrummed a little, happily, that Desmond was giving him this attention. Then Desmond stopped singing and Altair opened his eyes. "Something wrong?" he asked and tilted his head to the side.

He shook his head and trilled back at him. "You want me to keep singing?" Desmond didn't really wait for an answer, continuing to sing softly. His hands moved to Altair's wings while his own unfolded and curved around the both of them. Clearly, he didn't want Altair to get up and leave any time soon, though he really had no obligation to stay.

Altair closed his eyes again, he liked this song, it was soothing. After a few moments, now that he was awake, he allowed his voice to join Desmond's, it was very low where Desmond's was higher. Singing voices usually never completely lined up with their spoken ones. Singing was who they were, speaking was who they were supposed to be. Soldiers usually had lower ones, more dangerous and feral and very little range for an angel where breeder's were higher and had greater tone and range. Desmond sung way better than Altair but that didn't matter. Altair liked it same as Desmond. He brought his wings up next to Desmond's and brushed them against Desmond's.

He stopped singing after a while, to let Desmond sing by himself. "This is nice," Altair murmured and nuzzled Desmond's groin and thigh.

Desmond's voice didn't exactly hitch, but Altair's face between his legs certainly did something. He didn't let himself stop singing until the song was finished. He cooed and chirped, lifting Altair's head so he could nuzzle against his feathers and kiss his forehead.

Other than sex Altair's favorite thing now to do with non soldiers was kissing. He licked Desmond's lips before catching them between his teeth and kissing him slowly. To think he'd been bad at this just yesterday. After how much time his mouth had been against Desmond's he was pretty much excellent at it now. He pulled Desmond back down onto the bed and wrapped all his limbs around him.

He twittered at Altair, more than happy to kiss him back. Desmond let him do most of the work, simply getting a taste for his mouth again. His wings twitched and unfurled to block most of the light. Of course, he let the golden feathers he had wash them in a soft glow.

Altair sucked on Desmond's lower lip and tangled them up together and this was all really nice and Altair could honestly get used to this. Maybe not the numerous times they'd had sex in a row; but he could get used to this.

His head twisted around and some of his feathers bristled when someone knocked. "Desmond," Mars called. His feathers lay back down, it was nothing, just Desmond's Keeper.

Desmond pulled his wings back, head snapping up at the sound of Mars' voice. "A little busy?" he grumbled, but got up when she knocked again. He was pretty sure that Altair wasn't hard or anything - at least, he wasn't, but it wouldn't have been the first time Mars saw him like that. Desmond had little shame, and besides, she was his Keeper.

It took him a few moments to meet her eyes when he opened the door though.

Altair watched Desmond get up and go to the door, he didn't want to let Desmond go but when your Keeper called that was it. You went.

Mars looked at Desmond, then over his shoulder at Altair and then back to her angel. He had a few new scratches, maybe one that had drawn blood, but that was about it. No bruises. Better than the last time Altair had been in her home when Altair had barely been better than Daniel. She'd had a stern talking to Veles after that about making sure Altair knew better than to hurt the breeders, and more importantly her Desmond.

"Finally up I see," she said, "Veles just contacted me. Altair needs to go home, he wants to see him before the assault. So say goodbye. I told Veles he'd be home shortly," Mars said. She knew Desmond knew that he'd see Altair again.

Desmond whined at her, clearly unhappy about it. He sighed, and conceded with a nod. He still closed the door on her so he could say his goodbyes without her standing over his shoulder. Desmond pressed a chaste kiss against Altair's mouth.

"Which one do you want?" Desmond asked, gesturing to the glittering feathers throughout the regular ones in his wings.

Altair perked up, "I get one?" he asked. Soldier he might be but no angel was immune to sparkly things. Apparently that was why breeders tended to have shiny feathers, so they were more attractive towards soldiers. Altair didn't think they needed the feathers. They smelled great as it was.

He reached up and ran his hands across Desmond's wings, he didn't want too big a one since he didn't know where he'd put it. "This one," he said, it was a feather further up on Desmond's wing, nearly the length of Altair's hand.

Desmond reached up and plucked the feather. He gave it to Altair along with another kiss that ended up being more of him nuzzling against Altair's cheek. He really didn't want to let him leave.

Altair took the feather and after Desmond kissed him he put it behind his ear. It wasn't as long as his head feathers but he didn't care if it might have looked silly. He kissed Desmond again before getting up. Mars said he had to leave, that his Keeper wanted him, so he'd go. And while Altair wouldn't tell Desmond this, he didn't smell as nice as he had yesterday. Yesterday Altair had been all over him and it had gone right to his head. Now though it was just sort of normal angel smell. Altair wasn't quite as attracted to him as yesterday or last night. But, he wouldn't tell Desmond that. He'd probably get mad.

"I need to go," Altair said, slightly desperately, but also grinning when Desmond stood up and kept catching Altair's lips, silently asking him to stay.

His soft cooing kind of sounded like whimpers while he watched Altair leave. Adha was right though. It still hurt because Altair wasn't allowed to remember yet. He wasn't even allowed to say he'd miss him, or wanted him back safe. Especially since he slipped up and made him remember details he wasn't supposed to. Desmond heaved a sigh. He'd let himself mope around about it for a bit before pestering Mars for comfort food or something.

When Altair finally left the room he came face to face with Mars. Well rather, he had to look down to look at her but that was beside the point. "How did it go?" she asked him.

He honestly didn't know if it was good or bad that Mars was questioning him. He spent most of his life in the angel academy and if Altair didn't see other angels a lot he really didn't see other proeathans a lot. The entire place was regulated by angels with only the top angels getting to speak with the proeathans that ran the place. "Fine… I guess," he said awkwardly.

"Did you hurt him?"

"No!" he said crossly.

"Good," Mars said and smiled, "because I eat soldiers who hurt my Desmond for breakfast," and in those clothes Altair one hundred percent believed her. He followed her to the front door and he shook out his wings, grabbed the feather behind his ear so it didn't fall out, and took off.

Mars watched him go and went back inside and sent a message to Veles that Altair was on his way home. Then she went to Desmond's room and looked inside. Desmond was laying on his bed like he was dying. "He's gone now," she said gently and giggled with Desmond whined miserably. "He'll be back," she reminded him.

Desmond only continued to whine in response. He turned his head away from her, wings fluffed out. Really, he'd be fine in a while, and he did know what Mars was right, but there was still a large chance that a good number of the soldiers wouldn't be returning. Otherwise the council wouldn't have mandated that every available breeder be mated.

Chuckling a little Mars went into Desmond's room. Even without the extra strong sense of smell like the angels the smell in the room was strong. She sat down on the edge of the bed, because no way she was snuggling with Desmond in the middle after last night. "Why don't you clean yourself up, take off the sheets, and I'll make you something yummy?" she asked, leaning over to caress part of the wing of his she could reach. "Food is literally just as good as sex, and more reliable than any soldier."

He grunted, but pushed himself up. "It had better be really damn good food," Desmond said, gathering up what was soiled, along with his discarded tunic. He hardly remembered when it was tossed aside.

The more he worked, the less upset he got - not that he was particularly upset, just a little unhappy. Desmond preened himself, and did his best to wash off the scent, though he kind of liked that he smelled Altair on himself, Mars was not so keen on the smell of sex. Certainly when they'd gone at it as many times as they had.

Desmond came out of his room with a clean tunic on, led by his nose toward the kitchen.

Unlike a lot of other proeathans Mars didn't have human servants. She didn't like people in her house other than her or Desmond. She had a small crew of cleaners who came by one day a week to clean the house and make sure everything was in order and every few days had a service who delivered her groceries. But Mars cooked for herself and much like her taste in clothes Mars had a liking for human cuisine. Not that her people made bad food, it was just that she was pretty old (young for proeathans still), and had had lots of the foods. When they'd woken there were hundreds of new cuisines and Mars liked to try them all and make Desmond try them too.

Right now she was making Desmond's favorite though, because she knew he was being depressed and mopy and wanted his favorites. It was sort of like a rice hamburger. Or maybe hamburger sushi would be a better term for it. She didn't know if she could mix and match those two food terms, but she was and Desmond never corrected her. Usually because Desmond was too busy eating. It was some sticky rice with spicy braised meat on top.

She looked at him when he came out of his room, "Hungry?" she asked, "Rice is almost done."

Desmond twittered at her, almost but not really smiling. He'd get the most out of his moping as he could, though food would be the end of it, really. Good food was good food, and really there would only be a problem if the mating hadn't been successful.

"That's what I thought," she said, going over to him and stroking his cheek. "So it was successful?" she asked and put her hands on her hips. She was going to have to bump up the cleaners to twice a week with a baby angel around since they molted regularly through different sizes of down feathers until they were teenagers.

He hadn't noticed that his hands were resting against his stomach. Desmond looked down with a gentle kind of smile. "It was." His wings twitched out somewhat and he sat on his taller, open-backed chair.

"Good, now I won't have the council breathing down my neck," she went back and checked the rice. It was almost done. She took the meat for Desmond off the pan but let hers continue to cook. It was nearly lunch time after all. "Should I call Ogoun to send Adha over?" she asked. She knew it was inevitable for her to have two baby angels in her house at the same time, so she might as well rip the bandage off early with having Adha come over now. They'd no doubt spend most of the time talking about Altair or whoever Adha's mate had been. And babies. Always with the babies.

He fidgeted. "Before or after we're due?" There was a period of time where breeders didn't even want to be in the company of another angel just because of either how early along they were, or how close they were. They were most amicable once the fledgelings were born, though. Something to do with mothering.

Desmond waited patiently for the rice, honestly pretty content.

"Well do you want to see her now?" Mars asked. "She's usually pretty good about making sure you don't mope about Altair."

"She is good about that." Desmond shrugged, "It would be nice," he said, resting his elbows on the table.

"Okay, I'll call him," Mars said and checked the rice. It was done. She got out a bowl and spooned the rice into it and then laid the patty on top. "Here you go," she said, "Nice and spicy, just the way you like," she smiled and put the bowl in front of him.

Desmond thanked her and ate, really only careful because the rice was so hot still.


	40. I Hate You

Desmond was a little sad to find that Diyari had been killed in the assault, but he was a really Goddamn adorable fledgeling, and he was his fledgeling. He was many things and one of them was that he was a very good mother, aside from the fact that fledgelings pretty much made it impossible to be a bad parent.

He cooed at the young angel, never without some kind of song to sing to him. It would be a while yet before Diyari spoke more than chirps and tweets, and though he slept most hours of the day, Desmond was never far from him. Besides, Adha was supposed to be coming soon, and she would be bringing Sawsan.

Desmond had been curious about the fledgeling since he heard from Mars that Ogoun told her the child was delivered safely. Of course, it was because it was his and not Malik's but that wasn't something he'd up and told anyone.

Mars… didn't like babies. She did not like babies. She didn't like children and she didn't have a maternal instinct in her body. She didn't even like Desmond when he was a fledgling. She let him stay with his mother until he had his full wings. There was a reason she didn't have any and she barely tolerated her niblings.

But now Desmond had a baby. Not the first one he'd had while he was her angel, but there it was. It was little and fluffy and covered in down and cried a lot and pooped and threw up and was in general a disgusting little ball of germs. Desmond at least knew she didn't like babies so he didn't try to make her hold Diyari. And that was besides the fact that she was sure Diyari knew she hated babies and children and seemed to throw up on her things regularly, or pee or poop on them. So Diyari was only allowed in part of the house, and Desmond wasn't allowed to leave him alone. Mars just… stayed away.

And now she was going to have two babies in her house since Adha was coming over. Two chirping, crying, smelly, baby angels. She was just going to lock herself in her office until Adha left and hope her house wasn't covered in baby throw up when she came out.

When Adha finally came over Mars got the door. She had her infant in a sling against her chest so her hands were free. "Hello," Adha bowed her head.

"Hello Adha. Des knows you're coming," and she let Adha in, "I'm going to be in my office if you need me," and then she retreated because babies.

Adha cocked her head after Mars and looked down at her daughter. "I don't think its you," she said and stroked her head with her thumb. "Desmond," she called, though assumed he was in his room, and headed in that direction. "Mars was acting so strange, is she sick?" she asked as she opened the door.

Desmond looked up at her when the door opened and smiled. He'd been grooming Diyari's fluff. "She hates children," he said simply, and then motioned to the expanse of his bed for her to sit. "She doesn't even like it when I find her before my final fledgeling molt." He cooed at the fledgeling tucked against Adha's chest, and then returned to the task of keeping his child's wings clean.

"Adha is here," he said, "She brought a friend today." Though it was the first time Diyari would even see another his own age, not to mention the first time he'd see Adha.

"Poor Mars," Adha said as she sat on the bed next to Desmond. "I did indeed bring someone," she undid the sling around her neck as her daughter started to wriggle and chirp. "This is your daughter Desmond," Adha said and halfway bullied herself into his lap. "Her name is Sawsan," and Sawsan flapped her little fluffy wings animatedly.

Diyari was peeping and chirping up a storm. He didn't very much like that Adha took over Desmond's lap, but he found that crawling into her lap was just as good, even though she didn't smell exactly like his mother. And the one called Sawsan was just as fluffy as he was.

Desmond actually kind of enjoyed a lapful of Adha and baby angels. The fledgelings were wiggly little bundles of downy feathers, and Sawsan was absolutely adorable. He trilled softly at her, more than pleased. "She's perfect, Adha," he said, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Well I'd hope you'd think so," Adha said as Sawsan squirmed in her lap to look at her half brother. "Thankfully she looks more like me than you," since they could get into trouble if anyone found out that Sawsan wasn't Malik's daughter.

Breeders were nearly never allowed to mate, because they would only produce more of themselves. To make more soldiers you needed either a pair of soldiers (but it was basically impossible for soldiers to breed) or one of each type. And after all the losses during the assault they needed to replenish their army. "Lets hope she stays that way," she said leaning against Desmond's chest as brother and sister investigated each other. Sawsan chirped loudly and angrily when Diyari pulled on one of her wings and though she was only a few months old she managed to smack him with it. Adha giggled and cooed and took Diyari's hands off Sawsan's wings.

Desmond's wings unfurled about them, resting on the bed. He ran his fingers over the soft, tiny feathers on Sawsan's head. He berated Diyari with nothing more than a sharp chirp, and the fledgeling almost looked guilty. Diyari gave a little whimper, little wings tight against his back.

Both children would forget about it pretty soon, but Desmond had a thing about making sure his children treated other angels decently. He nuzzled against Adha and Diyari was already back to playing with Sawsan, wings as wide as they could go in Adha's lap.

Adha sighed watching the children eventually tumble off her lap and onto Desmond's bed where they climbed all over each other, squeaking and chirping. "I'm worried," she said. Because she was. Of the two she'd get into the most trouble about Sawsan, because she was the mother and the one who'd 'led Desmond on' (even though it was literally the opposite). Ogoun wasn't that powerful in the council like Mars was. Angels who bred out of turn were usually punished because there were only so many in the soul reservoir so each match had to count. But when soldiers were still needed over breeders…

"What if she gets culled?" she asked, all of her feathers down. If Diyari wasn't a soldier that was fine, he'd at least had a chance, Sawsan never would have been a soldier, she wasn't part of the way things were done. If their Keepers and then the council found out who Sawsan's real parents were she could be culled. Not that death was particularly bad, more it was just annoying to grown angels, it was more just a waste of resources. Not to mention Adha had had time to grow attached to her daughter. She hoped Ogoun wouldn't be so cruel.

Desmond cooed softly, frowning. "She's so adorable though, how could they?" He knew they probably would, they had done things like this before. The council never really tolerated fledgelings from mis-mated pairs. His sigh was a long, slow one while he watched the fledgelings play with each other. While he hadn't had the time Adha had with Sawsan, the vague fatherly feeling he did have was intensified by the fact that he was a breeder.

Adha whined and leaned over and picked Sawsan up from where she was playing with Diyari. Sawsan squeaked and flapped her little wings. She held Sawsan close to her chest and cooed a moment. "I hate you," she told Desmond, holding their daughter tightly.

He made a face at Adha, whining back at her. "I'm sorry," Desmond murmured. Diyari chirped, and flapped, a little upset that his playmate had been practically spirited away. He got tiny fluffy feathers everywhere, and toddled up to Adha, pouting even more than Desmond was.

She frowned at him, "You did this," she reminded him. It wasn't that she didn't love her daughter, because she did, but she didn't want to lose her. With Desmond as her father though she very well might. She leaned against Desmond's chest and whined again. She absolutely hated this. She wished she'd just left when Desmond had started to make moves on her so Sawsan would be Malik's child and not Desmond's.

In her lap Sawsan chirped and Adha smiled a little and chirped back. "Love you my little one," she cooed to Sawsan adoringly. Sawsan chirped and flapped her wings, hands on Adha's chest. "At the very least she's adorable," she told Desmond and leaned down and kissed Sawsan's cheek. Sawsan squeaked and giggled and wriggled happily. Adha smiled.

Desmond was still making soft, unhappy sounds. "No, she's beautiful," he said. "I know… I made a mistake, but I don't regret it. When Diyari is old enough, I'd offer myself in her place." Desmond meant that. "She's a much more amicable breeder than I am." Or, if they actually were strapped for rebirthing soldiers, they could always pump him with hormones again. End up with a fluffy soldier for the trouble, but a soldier.

Diyari whined about the suddenly heavy atmosphere, and was still trying to get into Adha's lap with a high pitched growl. Really, he just wanted to play with Sawsan.

"Anyone makes a more amicable breeder than you," Adha teased Desmond and butted against his chin as she pulled Diyari into her lap too. Sawsan trilled a little as Diyari tackled her as best he could in Adha's lap.

He laughed, and reached up to tilt her head. Desmond caught her with a kiss, a soft, chaste one, and he felt kind of good about it. Actually, he felt really good about it. Diyari ended up snuggling against Sawsan, still cooing.

Adha kissed him twice before leaning against his chest. Sawsan chirped at her half brother. "Have you seen Altair since the assault?" she asked, she hadn't seen Altair this cycle. She'd asked Malik about him and while Malik had told her he was fine he'd been really confused how Adha would know Altair or care or know he would know Altair. She'd just told him she'd tell him later. She sort of suspected Altair was hiding from them, unless he'd come see Desmond. If he'd seen Desmond and not her she was going to give him a piece of her mind and smack him with her wings some.

"No," Desmond blinked, hands settling against Adha's thighs. "I asked Mars if Veles was contacting anyone… She didn't have an answer. I've been too busy with Diyari to go seek him out myself," he said, wings flicking out somewhat.

"He's useless anyway," Adha said dismissively with a little grin. "Sawsan," her daughter looked at her at the sound of her name, Adha gently tugged on her baby's wings, "your daddy is a much better one than Diyari's, did you know that?" she cooed. Neither of the little angels understood of course, but Sawsan responded to Adha's voice with some chirps and squeaks, fanning her little wings.

Diyari peeped, avoiding Sawsan's wings. He didn't find Adha's cooing voice very interesting, and instead, pushed his face against his half sister's wings. They were much softer than Desmond's feathers.

"Hey, I somehow still like the useless bastard," Desmond grumbled, though it was without much conviction. "He was… better before all of this." He sighed. "Maybe he's finally been allowed to remember everything and he's appalled at what a dick he's been."

"I think he's hiding," Adha agreed, Sawsan had decided she was tired and fallen asleep against her chest even with Diyari lying on her. She had to admit, Sawsan was like Desmond in that she could fall asleep anywhere at any moment, for any reason. "You'd think he'd want to see his son though," she tapped Diyari on his nose, "He's always so interested in his children."

Diyari was becoming drowsy, though he was also the kind of kid that tried to stay awake for as long as he could. His chirps were more like mumbles against Sawsan's back.

"I'm surprised he has taken this long… He would know now that we knew he didn't know us," Desmond murmured.

"He's afraid we'd be mad at him," Adha said and she didn't doubt that was true either. "Maybe we should go visit him?" she asked and rubbed Diyari's back gently. The baby whistled softly against Sawsan's down.

Desmond kissed her ear. "Would you want to? We could let him stew in it for awhile longer." At least, before he was the one who caved and went to see him. He placed his hands around Diyari, to give him a little more support while he drifted off to sleep against Sawsan.

"It's almost been a year Desmond," Adha said, "Ogoun even would have known if he'd been killed during the assault. He's purposefully ignoring us. And frankly, it's annoying. You at least have gotten to mate with him. I've barely even seen him. I've seen Malik more than him. Malik told me he's not doing anything important now that the humans have decided it was in their best interest to leave us alone," both the babies were asleep now, Sawsan on her chest and Diyari face first in Sawsan's fluffy back.

He was honestly a little embarrassed of the shit he pulled himself, but it was unfair for Adha at least. "Mars might like a house with no fledgelings for a little while. Should we crash his little soldier pity party? Or let the little ones sleep a little longer?" Desmond asked, looking down at them over Adha's shoulder.

"I have been wanting to bring Diyari to his father, though," he admitted.

"Sawsan's cranky when she doesn't get her nap," Adha said, gently petting her daughter's head. "Then we can go surprise Altair," and there was an unspoken 'and have some fun with him' which she knew Desmond would hear.


	41. Guy' Talk

It wasn't uncommon for Malik to visit Altair, in fact it was pretty common for them to hang out. After the assault and Veles had given Altair all his memories back he'd positively pissed Malik off by wanting to be around him. Which of course in Altair's mind was understandable. He remembered holding Malik's fragile head in his hands and snapping his neck. He'd killed Malik and he still couldn't believe it. Malik had… tolerated him. For a while at least before screeching at him to knock it off. Now Altair kept his clinginess to a minimum.

Sometimes Altair visited Malik's place too. But today Malik was here. Along with Yusuf. Poor Yusuf who now knew everything and now knew why the deputy commander of the entire academy, Rauf, took such interest in him. Altair couldn't imagine what it was like to have such an age difference between your life mate. Rauf was an old man even by angel standards and Yusuf was about Altair's age, a fresh and new soldier. He couldn't even begin to imagine how difficult it was. Altair couldn't know because his life mates were both young.

Not that he really knew of course. He'd… been avoiding them. Malik told him to suck it up but he couldn't. He was too proud and he'd been so… awful to the both of them the past few cycles. Except this one. This one he was just embarrassing. He didn't even want to look at Desmond until his next cycle. Though he knew he was being a coward and stubborn about it, especially since it had been nearly a year since they'd mated. He probably had a child by now. He couldn't bring himself to go see Desmond though.

Usually he just focused on other people's problems though since his own were stupid and petty. Like Yusuf's, who was visiting with Malik. They were having lunch together. Veles had hired a human who specialized in angel meals after the assault. After nearly a year he still couldn't believe how good the food was after the crap he was used to eating at the academy.

They were all going to get fat!

If there was one thing that all angels shared, it was a love of food. Yusuf was more than happy to try and ignore his woes by just stuffing his face. Besides, this human made some damn good food, and pretty much every single angel loved to eat.

Malik was getting over his initial irritation with Altair demanding he come over, lest the younger angel come and drag him over. Really, the idiot should just get over it. He wasn't upset about all of the memories they were now all privy to once more, and he certainly wasn't upset about Altair killing him. Back then, he had been… well, there was no other choice, or be euthanized by something or someone he didn't know. At first, he supposed that Altair actually worrying about something was endearing. It had gotten annoying very quickly.

How many times had he told Altair that he wasn't going anywhere since they got back? Too many times to freaking count. He lamented that he could no longer whap Altair with his wings - they were much too big for that. Though it was more for Altair's stupid pride now.

Grudgingly, he ate, but as he ate, Malik inevitably became less irritated. Seriously, where did this human learn all of this?

"You really should go see Desmond," Malik said, mouth full. Which was also something he said more times than he could count. "All of us were dicks to breeders, he understands why."

Altair had to swallow before he could speak, "We're not here to talk about my relationship issues, Malik," he said, his wings twitching slightly in annoyance. "We're here to talk about Yusuf's," and he nudged Yusuf's shoulder with one of his wings with a grin.

He was just pretending Malik hadn't said that. He knew Desmond understood. But that wasn't really an excuse for his last cycle. Fuck if Desmond hadn't been willing Altair honestly would have called their mating rape. It made him feel like a huge asshole. Well, more than usual.

He knew he needed to go see Adha too. But he doubted he'd like seeing her with some other soldier's kid. Thinking about it made some of his feathers on his back bristle. He hadn't even seen her for two cycles an he was pissed about some other soldier's - who could very well be dead now- kid. And he wouldn't even go see his own kid. He was a fucking mess.

Yusuf made a muffled sound at the tension hanging in the air. "I don't even haaaave a kid. And Rauf's old and we're both obviously soldiers and we all know this already." He didn't really know what there was to talk about. "I won't… have to wait a long time will I? You know… when he dies?" With all of the conflict, a lot of soldiers' exact memories of how many cycles they'd been through was kind of blurry. At least, for Yusuf it was. His Keeper was a little loose with how well he blocked memories.

Malik had opened his mouth to say something when he noticed the set in Altair's shoulders, but he just sat quietly while Yusuf spoke up.

"He hasn't died yet," Altair reminded him. "He and Rashid don't seem keen on dying anytime soon either," he spooned some more of his lunch into his mouth. Veles at least let him eat with his hands when other angels were around. Using utensils was considered stupid by angels and using them could get you called all sorts of things. On the top of the list was 'human' or 'homo' which usually started a fight.

"Not like him dying would do you any good. Rauf is the soldier. You're not," he added to Yusuf. Yusuf's Keeper had made sure he was soldier the last few cycles, just like Desmond's had made him a breeder. He could do both. Rauf though. Always a soldier. His next cycle wouldn't do any good for either of them since soldiers didn't have relationships like that usually.

"I know but…" Yusuf groaned, though it was more of a huff than anything else. "Cycles suck," he decided, and then licked his fingers. Malik chuckled.

Aside from being the oldest of all three of them this cycle, he was one of the angels that wasn't exactly bound to a life mate. "Nothing's saying you can't see him. Besides, the old bird's probably more interested in having someone to preen with," Malik said. It would take a few generations for them to become more balanced on the spectrum of the two castes, but none of them really had any memories of it. "Your Keeper shouldn't be adverse to the idea of you spending time with Rauf now that the fight is over."

"It's over for now," Altair said, "You know eventually the humans are gonna get their feathers all ruffled again about something and attack us without a reason. Like the last time," he huffed. "You maybe make it easier on yourself and off yourself," Altair said. Suicide wasn't frowned upon by angels like it was by humans or proeathans. Angels killing one another was. But not suicide. If you had a hormone or chemical imbalance it was an easy, permanent, fix, and then you'd come back a few years later to continue your life.

Altair smirked wickedly at a sudden thought, "Then Rauf would get to see you as a little fledgling," he teased Yusuf, nudging him with his wing again. "All fluffy and downy. I bet he'd die from the cute right then," and Altair laughed.

Yusuf's brows drew together and his wings shuffled. "I don't know. I want to talk to him first… Because he'd really get nothing out of me before he actually does die." Rauf was more like middle aged, honestly, but it meant he'd survived battles with the humans at least once. While age wasn't really that much of a problem, sometimes it was hard to wait. "It just doesn't make sense, would he want to basically… have to take care of me while I'm just a fledgeling?" Yusuf asked. "I mean, really, how much would you want to take care of Desmond if you were as old as Rauf is?"

"I'll have you know that if a baby Desmond or Adha was dropped into my lap I'd take care of them," Altair said. "And it isn't like he's going to take care of you. He's not your mom," Altair rolled his eyes at Yusuf, "he'd be around though," then he sighed, "Like Desmond was for me the entire time," he rubbed his face. "I went through three cycles before now," he lamented, meaning Desmond had seen him every time and watched him go through awkward teenage and down stages.

"I don't wanna make him go out of his way or anything." Even before they were given their memories back, Yusuf was the same way. He tried his hardest while Rauf and Malik trained him before the assault, not wanting to make extra work for Rauf. Though, while he didn't understand why at the time, Rauf still took him aside for extra lessons or exercises. Not that he ever complained. And Rauf never told him he was a bother. Yusuf shrugged.

Malik looked up, and finished licking his fingers clean. "You were adorable back then too, but seriously, you were a royal pain in the ass as a fledgeling." He looked over at Yusuf and put his hand on his shoulder briefly, "You, on the other hand, you're pretty mild mannered if I remember." Malik offered a smile that was mostly teeth.

"Hey!" Altair complained, "I was a fucking teenager what do you want from me?" he scowled at Malik. "Not like any of the other teenage soldiers were any better than me. And I was older than you once. You were a fucking nightmare who was way too bull headed for his own good. Or did you forget the first time you were reborn?" he asked Malik.

Their last life as a human-avian Altair had got to meet Malik when he was young, before he'd been returned to the soul reservoir, because he and the others of their flock had been useful because they could fight. Malik had been an absolute terror and liked pulling on wings and feathers and stubborn and talked back to everyone. Since then the proeathans have trained and and bred that out of Malik with mild mannered mothers. But he'd been awful before then.

"Well, I remember that now," he shrugged. "I didn't have a playmate either, did I?" Malik sat back, happily stuffed and sated. "I was used to having you to get into fights with and bully."

Yusuf snickered privately at the exchange, intensely amused.

"Oh that is so great to know that's how you think of me," Altair said, "You wouldn't even let me play with you," not that the proeathans would really either. They wanted their new angels to be untainted by humans and their ideals or even the human-avians. At the very least Altair had gotten to see Malik when he was small and fluffy. He'd never forget that.

"Best friends bully each other." Malik waved a hand at Altair. "How about something to drink? Call that chef back in, we'll see what he has."

Yusuf leaned toward Malik's plate, "You going to finish that first?" Malik had kind of already made it clear he was done, and Yusuf gladly ate what was left even though it wasn't much.

"I know they do, you're just so rough," Altair complained. He was about to get up and go find the cook when he stopped. "Do you two smell that?" he asked. Because it now became very obvious that they weren't the only angels at Altair's house. In fact, it was some breeders. "Please tell me you smell that," because it didn't just smell like breeders but… babies.


	42. Easy Play

Mars had been more than happy to be rid of the two children - even though they had spent the majority of the time sleeping. Desmond was just glad to get out of her hair. He knew how much she detested actual children.

He had a similar sling to Adha's to hold Diyari against his chest so he could fly without risking dropping him - not that he ever would, but it was simply safer than clutching the fledgeling against his chest. On short flights he only held him, because Diyari seemed to really like feeling the wind, and even though his tiny wings were useless, flapping the fluffy appendages.

They had taken the time to feed the half siblings before leaving if only because they were chirping and peeping in the absolute highest pitch they could muster. Desmond had to wash Diyari because he'd tried to relieve himself on the table, as if the little angel thought his crap was the gift of the gods or something. Needless to say, it would have greatly upset Mars to find that stinky little present, so Desmond, of course, cleaned up after his kid (who was turning out to be as ungrateful as a memory-blocked Altair).

When they could finally head off, Desmond was a little tired but determined to crash whatever pity party Altair had concocted - or whatever he was doing avoiding both of his mates. He followed Adha, jumping into the sky after her.

Though she'd never been to Veles' place Adha knew where it was, just like she'd known where Mars lived and her own Keeper lived. All proeathans resonated with them on some level but their Keepers did much stronger. Sawsan was dozing against her chest as she flew, unlike Diyari who wanted to see everything and fly on his own already. Thankfully Sawsan was a literal angel compared to her brother.

Veles had a nice house with an open courtyard and from the air there were two practice dummies in it. They landed in the courtyard, Sawsan chirped softly but didn't wake. She could smell Altair, she could also smell Malik, and another angel she didn't know but who was a soldier. "Here we are, shall we?" she asked Desmond.

Diyari immediately recognized his father's scent, and only responded to it because he was a fledgeling. If he was older it wouldn't have made a difference to him. Desmond shushed him, smoothing his feathers down. "After you," he said, before turning his attention back to quieting Diyari's chirping and fluttering.

"Well if they didn't know we were here they do now," Adha laughed and Sawsan complained sleepily. She walked towards the strong scent of soldiers in a separate house from the main house. Many Keepers kept their angels in separate houses on the property to keep the smell at a minimum. Especially soldiers who could smell strongly of everything from sweat to testosterone to blood.

Adha opened the door to the little house without knocking, she knew they knew they were there. Inside Altair, Malik, and some angel she didn't recognize immediately, were sitting around an empty bowl that had previously held food. She smiled a little, amused, when Altair's head feather's went up with surprise. "Hello," she said elegantly and let herself in.

Yusuf squinted at the new arrival, not really recognizing her either. Malik, on the other hand, brightened a little, feathers rising somewhat. "Adha," he said with a slight smile. "And Sawsan - is that Desmond?"

He was still trying to convince Diyari to stay in the harness before the kid did something stupid. Like squirm and fall out or something.

"I guess you can't hide from them any longer, Altair," Malik all but crooned, smirking at him while Desmond ended up just giving up and letting Diyari out because the fledgeling was determined to wriggle and thrash until he did. He tucked him under his arm though, much to Diyari's dismay, tiny, fluffy wings flapping wildly, though they didn't do much hitting Desmond's hip and arm.

"No he can't," Adha said and went over to Altair who was staring at her. She tapped him firmly on the head with the joint of her wing before going over to Malik. "Hold your daughter," she told the soldier and lifted Sawsan out of the sling and put her into Malik's lap. Malik didn't have much choice in holding Sawsan, meaning Adha was free to pull the sling from over her head.

She leaned down and pressed a kiss to Malik's lips, which made his feathers flare happily and next to him Altair absolutely growled. Adha gave him a look, "You don't get to be mad I'm kissing my mate when I've barely seen you since you were a dryskin," she scolded him. Altair growled but tried not to look too mad. She was right after all. Adha turned back to kiss Malik again. She was partially doing this because breeders were attracted to the fathers of their children (even though Malik wasn't she was playing along), and partially doing this to piss Altair off. Not like he didn't deserve it.

Desmond grunted and rolled his eyes. "You had sex with me anyway," he growled at Altair when the soldier did. Diyari had stopped trying to get out of Desmond's grip - after the first initial case of butterfingers, Desmond held his child fast, and the boy recognized that. He chirped and warbled at Altair, raising his arms toward him. At least Sawsan was… nonplussed about who her father was, and Desmond was glad that she was, because if she was as verbal and obvious as Diyari, they'd both be in a lot of shit.

Desmond was really tempted to throw something at Altair, though with the only thing he could throw being Diyari, he wasn't too keen on that. Beaming Altair in the head with a baby wasn't exactly what he had in mind, but bless, the kid would probably think he flew. Instead, he sat down beside Altair, legs crossed. "Diyari, it's Altair," he said, and let the fledgeling try to crawl all over the soldier and use his dad like a jungle gym, chirping and peeping the whole time.

Altair was suddenly overwhelmed by baby, which he wasn't expecting. Diyari was small and surprisingly agile and not so surprisingly keen on climbing all over Altair. It distracted him from Adha and Malik cooing over their baby. It meant Altair had to focus only on the baby wriggling around in his lap. "You're really cute," he told his little son and sort of put him on his feet. Diyari proceeded to press his little hands all over Altair's face, smishing it around.

Yusuf was watching all of this with a vague kind of wistfulness in his eyes. He wanted a fledgeling of his own, dammit. They were just so freaking adorable, he couldn't stand it. He was actually pretty envious of Adha and Desmond both, though Diyari looked like an absolute handful - clearly Altair was his father.

Desmond relaxed visibly once he finally had his hands to himself, and sagged as much as his wings would allow. Really, it was an exaggeration, but he was still incredibly pleased not to be dealing with Diyari's antics. His eyes never went far from the fledgeling, but they were a lot softer than usual.

Once Adha was done kissing Malik she sat down between him and Altair and then leaned over and kissed Altair on his cheek. Malik might be her current mate but like Desmond she was also Altair's life mate. If she and Altair were a peanut butter and jelly sandwich Desmond was the bananas. Or the other way around. They just… sort of went together.

Altair thrummed happily when Adha kissed him but was paying attention to his son who was still grabbing his face and hair. Altair grimaced when Diyari pulled on his short head feathers. "Ah, watch it buddy, those are attached," and Diyari just chirped loudly. From Malik's lap Sawsan peeped and wiggled a little but unlike Diyari didn't try to squirm all around. She stayed right in Malik's lap, enjoying feeling safe in the soldier's shadow.

Desmond leaned against Adha somewhat, one wing unfolding a little more to hook around her. He made a soft sound at her, then looked past her to Altair. "Not so bad seeing your life mates, is it? Not like pulling teeth… Or plucking, now." It was still a goal of his to make the soldiers feel uncomfortable, but he'd need Adha's attention for that. Nothing got them bothered more than two breeders. Especially when they were already mated.

"You'd think it'd be harder with how hard he was trying to avoid us," Adha said sweetly and settled against Desmond's strong wing. She felt the soldiers watching intently, even Altair had pulled Diyari's hands off his face in order to get a better look at what they were doing. She and Desmond smelled like babies and mothering and besides actually being in 'heat' nothing turned a soldier on more than breeders who were with children. She knew this was Desmond 'punishing' Altair for being a flake, and she played right along.

Desmond cooed softly against her ear, nuzzling against her cheek. He knew Malik was protective of Adha for the time being, and for that, he kissed her. Of course it worked just as well for Altair, because even though they were both mates of his, Altair had never been sure if he exactly liked Desmond fooling around with her.

It was far from the regular little kisses often shared by angels. Definitely not with his wing curved around her as it was. Desmond hadn't even given Altair a kiss at all, but he was clearly more than happy to mack on Adha right in front of them all.

Yusuf legitimately squeaked.

Altair's mouth dropped open when Desmond kissed Adha and he didn't know if he was pissed or turned on. Desmond hadn't even kissed him yet and he was kissing Adha. Kissing was not normal for soldiers at all. But… they were normal for breeders. Usually the castes were kept separate but unlike soldiers who were content on their own breeders- well, they needed what they needed. Including physical things. Altair knew two breeders would never mate, it was strictly prohibited. But… kissing and touching was fair game. This wasn't even just a little kiss either, this was a kiss kiss. It made him mad cause they weren't kissing him and both of them seemed to be enjoying it.

From Malik's lap Sawsan finally decided she needed to remind everyone that she was there. She started chirping and peeping excitedly and flapping her useless fluffy wings. She was making it very difficult for Malik now. In Altair's lap Diyari also started squeaking and chirping and smacked Altair in the chin with one of his wings.

There was a smirk on Desmond's face when he pulled back. He chuckled, "How about that, Alty." Desmond directed the shit eating grin at him, and then his attention turned to Diyari. He leaned over Adha's lap, clicking his tongue. "There's no need to smack Daddy," he told him, reaching out to ruffle the small, soft feathers on the fledgeling's head. The word was painfully human, but Desmond used it anyway.

Malik managed to avoid Sawsan's flapping, but he kind of let the little girl out of his lap. Yusuf almost screeched, hands over his mouth because holy shit baby angels were so fucking precious and Yusuf wanted every single one of them he didn't care if they basically only ate and shat and looked cute. He really wanted to scoop Sawsan up, but he was more worried that Malik or even Adha would maim him or something.

Diyari trilled and Altair grabbed Desmond by the feathers on his chest and jerked him closer to kiss him. Fucking jerk. Well… maybe Altair deserved them doing that. But really, in front of Malik and Yusuf? He couldn't even work with that. He forgot how much he'd missed the taste and shape of Desmond's mouth until he was kissing it too.

Sawsan was on the floor, half crawling, half squirming, until Adha picked her up and cooed to her, shushing her a bit. Sawsan peeped and wriggled but not too much, before quieting down again. She looked over at the angel she didn't know really, at least not this cycle. He had a bit too many feathers for a full soldier. "Would you like to hold her?" she asked him while Desmond was busy shutting Altair up.

Yusuf beamed at her, "I would, I really would." He didn't move over to her until Desmond had sorted himself out and gotten off of her lap. Malik was still trying to figure out if he was pissed off at Desmond for kissing his mate right there in front of him, or if he was pissed that Altair was now trying to suck Desmond's fucking face off. Whose arms Sawsan was in was not on the top of his list of things he was thinking about.

Adha pushed Desmond off her because she had more important things in her lap right now, like their daughter. "Here," she didn't bother to have to tell them to be careful like she'd had to with Malik. She knew they knew what to do.

Diyari chirped when Desmond and Altair seemed a bit too into kissing now. He was getting squished a little and did not like that one bit. He chirped loudly to get his parents attention. Honestly they should be paying attention to him.

Desmond pulled back, looking down at Diyari. "Oh you want kisses too, don't you?" He picked up the boy, still half in Altair's lap and half on the floor, and littered his face and head with little kisses. Diyari squirmed until Desmond stopped because that was definitely not what he had meant when he was chirping for their attention.

Yusuf cradled Sawsan in his arms, rather enamored with the entire idea of children. "She's awfully pretty," he said. "You've gotta be pretty lucky, Malik." It was almost as if he was making a jab at the other fighter. He smiled down at her, petting and half preening her fluffy wings.

"Never happy," Altair said once Desmond had put their son down, "Reminds me of someone I know," he gave Desmond a look, raising his brows at him. He ran his fingers through Diyari's fluffy wing feathers, and he seemed to like that much better.

"Of course he is," Adha said, lying right through her teeth. Malik was lucky she'd even been interested in him while she was already pregnant since while so sex drive was way down. She'd had to fake some of it, but she doubted he'd even noticed. Most of the time soldiers were just glad to stick their dick into something. "Hopefully though she won't get his nose," and she reached over and tugged on Malik's nose with a grin. Despite being reborn several times Malik seemed to favor large noses and there was nothing his Keeper could do about it. Adha thought it was funny.

"So I got fed up with your attitude. You telling me I was useless every single cycle was not an easy thing to hear," Desmond shot back, though he settled comfortably against Altair's side. Diyari settled back down in the soldier's lap, exhaustion having finally caught up with him since he hadn't slept like Sawsan had on the way over. He yawned, mouth full of tiny, sharp teeth, and was lulled by Altair's hands on his wings.

Malik jerked back a bit, covering his nose with one hand. "I can't do anything about that." He didn't really want anything to be done about it either. He was comfortable with how he looked, and he'd been looking that way for quite a while now. What he was more concerned with was watching Yusuf with his daughter even though he knew that the young soldier wouldn't hurt her.

Yusuf smiled down at Sawsan, still cooing at the fledgeling.

Altair scowled at Desmond. They both knew Desmond was being a bit unfair there. "I'm sorry," because his only excuse was the truth but somehow it was still weak. He leaned over and nuzzled Desmond. It wasn't like he could help what he'd been doing. He hadn't known who Desmond was the past few times. "I'll be better from now on," unless his Keeper changed and decided that (like some members of proeathan society) they didn't like Mars and wouldn't let Altair have those memories to know he was supposed to be with Desmond and Adha. In his lap their baby chirped sleepily because Altair had stopped petting his wings. He returned to his task and Diyari was once more content.

Adha didn't miss Malik's concerned look at Yusuf and Sawsan. "She's fine," she reminded him gently and pressed her wing against his. "Who are you anyway?" she asked because she still didn't know. She just knew he seemed familiar.

The young soldier was too preoccupied with the fluffy baby in his lap to notice he was being spoken to. "It's Yusuf," Malik supplied, amused when he looked up like he'd done something wrong.

"What?" Yusuf blinked, brows drawn somewhat. "You don't remember me?" Well, it wasn't really that Adha and he spent a lot of time near each other either. The last time they'd really even remotely known one another was before the proeathan awakening, and there wasn't much communication between the two of them.

Understanding dawned on Adha, "Oh," she said and now felt really embarrassed. "Yes now I do. I haven't seen you in a while. You've changed," now he wasn't all dark haired and had a beard. He had brightly colored wings, which was odd for a soldier, but other than that was just like any other soldier. "Where's Rauf?" since she remembered he and Yusuf had basically been attached at the hip some life times ago. "Have you seen him since the assault?" Because she didn't know. Unlike Desmond she stayed away from the academy like she was supposed to. She let the soldiers do what they wanted and ignored them unless her Keeper told her she was going to be mated.

"I haven't, not personally, I mean. He survived, Rauf always does." Yusuf smiled a little. "He's getting pretty old though," he admitted, "and I can't be bred." They didn't have separate genders anymore but there was a different kind of dysphoria while they were still in war-modes. "Fledgelings are so cute." Yusuf finally surrendered Sawsan back to Malik and Adha, biting back his sigh.

Desmond looked over at Yusuf, "You go see him, though. You'll both like that." He was glad that Diyari finally fell asleep in Altair's lap, but he wasn't keen on moving the boy just yet. Occupying Altair deserved to have his time occupied by their child.

"We've tried to tell him that. He's too shy," Altair said with a little snicker. "Rauf is one of our main overseers at the academy," he added, "and Yusuf was his special boy," Altair teased him and knocked Yusuf with his wing. Being a 'teacher's pet' had a similar connotation as being their bitch. For soldiers there were few things more insulting or humiliating to be referred to in the same manner as a breeder, or someone who laid on their back a lot. The stigma wasn't as bad now and wouldn't start fights like it used to. Now it was mainly just embarrassing instead of infuriating or grounds to beat another angel to pulp.

Yusuf made a face at Altair. "Was not…" though he was, and he knew it now. "And fine, fine, I'll go see him," he said, just a little red.

Desmond leaned hard on Altair. "That's not actually insulting. And if I catch you using things like breeder as an insult, so help me, I will pluck you naked." Really. They were made this way to reduce that kind of prejudice. Of course, it rubbed off on angels from their Keepers, who were just as bigoted and sexist as their failed human projects.

"I was just teasing!" Altair cried and in his lap Diyari grumbled. He looked down and rubbed his son's belly to help him go back to sleep. Diyari shifted so he was more stretched out on Altair's lap. "We don't do that anymore," most of the castist bull shit with soldiers mainly came from the fact that they remembered nothing. Most of them had, by now, been put into place by their mates. Even a mild mannered breeder (like Adha) would put a soldier in their place for acting like a shitty sexist human or proeathan.

"Good," Adha said giving him a significant look.

Altair pulled his wings over his head a bit, slouching as best he could. "Don't kill me," he said quietly. Though he knew they could do worse than that. Like make him miserable. Like make out in front of him again and not let him join our kiss him either. That pretty much drove him crazy.

"Oh… we wouldn't." Desmond smiled innocently, reaching over to soothe Altair's feathers. "Besides, give it a few cycles, even you could bear a child." Not that Altair ever would.

Malik snickered at the thought of Altair actually mothering a child, "He doesn't have a single mothering bone in his body." How he was acting now was about as close as it got.

Despite what he'd just said Altair looked absolutely horrified by the thought of that. He was still a soldier after all and so he didn't ever want to be a breeder. Just the thought made him uncomfortable. "I really, really, don't," he agreed with Malik dumbly. Adha giggled at him.

"That's a good punishment to remember, then." Desmond's grin was absolutely wicked. Even Malik was a little unnerved by it. He took Diyari's sleeping form from Altair's lap, and cooed at him so that he didn't rouse too much. The switch from the toothy smile to soft, quiet cooing was a bit extreme.


	43. Interlude: Temporal Functions

Rauf knew it would happen eventually. He just had to be patient. Good thing Rauf was about ninety percent patient otherwise the past few cycles would have driven him insane. Angels important to the academy, as in those who trained other angels, including those who became mentor angels, got most, if not all their memories during the time when most soldiers had none. Rauf was the deputy commander of the academy and was important enough to be given free leave to his memories. He wished he wasn't though. He'd gotten to watch all his friends grow up and sent off to war and sometimes not come back.

The worst though was having to watch Yusuf grow up, get older, sometimes be mated with a breeder, and then… it started all over again. And he couldn't do anything. All he could do was watch over him and sometimes help him. But he didn't want to too much. He knew soldiers were idiots and thought all sorts of things about others who were favored by the higher ups. But this cycle he couldn't help himself. He missed Yusuf. It had been decades since he'd actually been able to do anything with Yusuf other than help him progress with his training at arm's length.

After the assault most angels had gone home to be with their Keepers since they'd squashed the last human 'resistance' who were taking pot shots at them from a distance until their angel army had obliterated most of them. So the academy was quiet. Rauf's Keeper was one of the proeathan admins who ran the academy though so he had nowhere else to go. The academy was his home. It had been very empty the past year.

Rauf just wanted Yusuf to come see him. He hadn't sought the younger angel out because it wasn't done. Not for what he wanted. He'd let Yusuf come to him. He was being patient, but it was hard. He wasn't getting any younger and his cobalt feathers were starting to gray. He just wanted to see his life mate this cycle before his Keeper culled him. His Keeper didn't like Rauf when he was too old. So long as Rauf could keep up he was allowed to live but once he started to show his age he got put down. Rauf didn't mind, he hated being old, being slow, being weak. But if that happened he'd have to wait even longer to see Yusuf. As it was the past few decades had been such a strain on his heart.

He did his best not to dwell on it. Instead he was looking through the next batch of soldiers in his office, his big wings cast around him to ease a small ache in his joints. For the next few generations, even now that the stupid war had calmed down, soldiers would stay at a high level. But without a need for them their numbers would dwindle and the actual monstrous soldiers they bred would degrade into normal soldiers and their soldiers would degrade into guards. Unless needed their army would shrink to a third its current size. But that wouldn't be for perhaps another hundred years, once the humans well and truly accepted that they weren't alone on this planet anymore or the top dog, and no the proeathans didn't want to kill them. They just wanted to be left alone to try and fix the world the humans had somehow so badly mutilated. In the back of his mind though he was thinking about Yusuf.

When Yusuf came back to the academy, he was almost surprised at how empty it was. It even smelled empty. His feet carried him through the complex, and he stood before the wide, heavy door with a fidgety twitch in his wings. He knew Rauf knew he was standing there, and Yusuf knew Rauf was just inside. What Yusuf didn't know is what he wanted to say. Or even what he wanted to do. He finally just let himself in and went to sit in the stool like any other time he'd been called into the office. Yusuf dipped his head, hands fisted so tightly in his lap that his claws dug into his palms. He had become a lot less apprehensive the moment he stepped into the room and was enveloped in the scent of him, both recently and distantly familiar. "I'm sorry," was what he said, staring at Rauf's desk, the curve of his wings that he immediately recognized as a way to ease an ache.

As soon as Yusuf had stood outside his door Rauf knew. He knew and he sat totally still like breathing wrong would be enough to send Yusuf away again. Then he'd come in and Rauf felt a strain in his body he hasn't known he'd been carrying around with him loosen. His wings sagged a little somehow feeling better than they had in a long while and his face softened.

"Oh Yusuf," he said. "There's nothing to be sorry for. You had no idea," unlike some other life mates he knew (Desmond) Rauf did not and would never blame Yusuf for his actions while he wasn't himself. To Rauf there was nothing to forgive, nothing to blame. All he cared about was that his Yusuf had returned to him and that from now on her never have to suffer watching Yusuf from afar.

"I'm sorry because I'm late." Yusuf looked up at him, wings shuffling behind him. He knew he'd taken an extraneously long time since getting his memories back. He'd been a stupid kid about it like Altair had been about Desmond. "You don't get any younger until you are culled," he said, knowing that he'd wasted time he could have spent with Rauf.

"Well I'm not going anywhere now," he said and stood up. "And I'm not dead yet," he tucked his wings back behind his back though it sort of pained him. Both he and Rashid were getting old and were more active than most angels because they trained other angels. Their wings would always hurt now. Rauf's aches were manageable still though and he could hide them. But that didn't mean the ache in his wings went away.

"Get up. I really want to kiss you," Rauf said. He'd wanted to do that for so long. Tell Yusuf he wanted to and know that Yusuf wouldn't freak out about it. Stupid soldiers. All he wanted for decades was to kiss his life mate. Just once. Just once and he could be happy. It would have made the waiting easier to bear.

Yusuf was around the desk in moments, wings and feathers betraying his turmoil and excitement. He pressed his mouth against Rauf's, and realized he'd been missing this almost just as much. Yusuf seemed to be trying to wrap himself up in him while at the same time trying to hold himself back because he just knew Rauf was in a dull, constant pain, and he couldn't bring himself to make it worse even if he wanted to both tuck him in his wings and curl up in his lap.

They were far from the way they had been the last time they were so close.

Every tight part of Rauf unraveled when Yusuf kissed him. He'd missed this so desperately it was like he was breathing clear air for the first time in a long time. There was nothing he didn't love about the way Yusuf felt pressed up against him or the feeling of Yusuf's mouth on his. He held Yusuf tight to him, wrapping his arms around him. His wings fanned out a little before he pulled them back and kept them still. Moving was pain, stillness was not.

They kissed for a long time and Rauf didn't know if they stopped to breathe or not. If they did was irrelevant. All Rauf cared about was kissing his mate. The thought made him pull away a little, but not far enough away for Yusuf to not be able to chase his lips. He hasn't had a mate in decades. His Keeper didn't matchmake him, preferring to keep him where he was useful at the academy and not have worry about mates or babies. He blinked at Yusuf happily. The thought thrilled him. He kissed Yusuf again, gentler this time, without so much urgency. They had time.

Yusuf was trilling quietly, and it was more like purring. He was out of breath, and it didn't really make much of a difference, he still cooed at him anyway. "How did you stand it? You always knew, didn't you." He'd still somehow ended up in Rauf's lap.

"I knew," Rauf said and ran his hands up Yusuf's thighs slowly, enjoying the feeling of his skin. "And I knew one day you'd remember again," he pressed one hand to the small of Yusuf's back, "one day you'd come back to me," he stroked Yusuf's face gently. He'd been waiting for this day for decades. Now it was here. He didn't know if he could even stand ever having Yusuf out of his sight again. He wanted Yusuf close, always.

He honestly didn't care what Rauf did. His hands were warm, and calloused and familiar, and he finally knew why. Yusuf couldn't help the huge smile on his face. "It must have hurt to watch me for so long. Watch me do all of those stupid things I did." Even now there was a tickle in the back of his head, totally amazed that he was letting another soldier touch him, even though that soldier was his superior and was practically his life mate.

The bond was relatively new, Yusuf's Keeper had a monopoly on his genes to keep him a soldier. He never had a chance. "I saw… Altair's and Malik's fledgelings," He said after a while, humming low and happy in his chest. "They are so small and warm and covered in fluff."

Rauf chuckled, "Yes, they do tend to be that way," Rauf said and rubbed the small of Yusuf's back. "Though when I see them they're considerably less cute," meaning he got to see young soldiers when they were a bit older, not so covered in down and ready to punch anything that looked at them wrong.

"What about me?" He asked, head tipped to the side. Yusuf smiled, wings unfolding. Rauf wasn't of the same small stature he had been, but he was still compact for an angel. By comparison, Yusuf was nearly always a little lanky. He still fit in Rauf's arms and lap. Barely.

Rauf's smile was nearly blissful, "You were always cute," he assured Yusuf, giving his chin a playful tug. "Always my favorite, even when you were fighty," since no soldier was really immune to how they acted when they were young and ready for a brawl.

Yusuf's feathers rose, embarrassment showing more in how his feathers and wings moved than in his face. He wasn't quite sure how to breach the subject swimming in his head. "Have… you wanted me the whole time?" He asked slowly.

"The whole time," Rauf said softly and kissed him again. There were brief periods when he was young and didn't have his memories that he didn't miss Yusuf, didn't desire to touch or kiss him. But in his life those years were fleeting. "Since the academy started and I was made deputy commander. I've always missed you," he said and nuzzled against Yusuf's cheek. He could still smell the lingering scent of baby angels on Yusuf's skin from being around Malik and Altair's. He was surprised how much he liked it.

He pressed a kiss against Rauf's jaw. "We can make up for all of that," Yusuf offered, voice quiet and more of a coo than anything. He shifted in the older angel's lap, hoping that he wasn't putting his legs to sleep with his weight. Though he guessed he didn't exactly weigh a ton, but he certainly didn't weigh next to nothing.

Rauf made an agreeable noise in the back off his throat and buried his face in Yusuf's neck. Yusuf smelled nice and Rauf honestly barely knew what to do with himself. After so long of waiting, now that he had Yusuf in his lap he barely knew what to do about that. Kissing his neck seemed like a good idea. As did pushing his hands up under Yusuf's tunic to run his rough hands along his spine.

Yusuf let himself arch under Rauf's hands. It pressed him against his chest, and he didn't mind that one bit. Some tiny part of him was totally indignant about the fact that he was being handled and touched by another soldier, but the rest of him was totally for this. "I'm… okay if you want to do more, I just… it's been a long time." Too long.

"I wouldn't push you," Rauf told him gently. He knew how soldiers were. He was one after all. He knew how this must grate against part of him, a part that was nearly disgusted he was allowing another soldier this close. Must soldiers got pissy and started fighting if you tried to penetrate them. How many young angels got beat to hell for his students 'experimenting' with each other? Far too many. "I wasn't even going to ask," there wasn't really a point. He might have wanted it though. But it wouldn't do anything.

"Then… just… don't stop touching me," Yusuf said quietly, wings rising until his feathers spread out completely. They were no longer quite as pretty as they had been, but they retained some of their color - mostly in the iridescence of the blacks. "Please," he added, delivering a chaste little peck to Rauf's lips.

Rauf smiled, "I can do that. But perhaps we could move?" his thighs were starting to hurt. "Between this uncomfortable chair and you my butt has started to hurt," he sort of teased, one of his hands going up Yusuf's flank under his tunic. It was such a useless thing right now. Rauf really did just want to pull it off. He wanted to go lay down and pull Yusuf on top of him so he could continue to touch him, smell him, but most importantly, kiss him.

"Oh. Yeah, of course," Yusuf scrambled to get off of him, wings fluttering uselessly. "Where should we go then?" Rauf's office wasn't exactly a place meant to be completely comfortable. The way he said it meant more that he didn't want to move far.

Rauf stood up with a slight groan. His knees hurt a bit and he adjusted his wings to be comfortable for walking. "This way," he said taking Yusuf's hand and leading him out of the office.

The academy was his home. He had no place at his Keeper's home. His only place was here. He liked it like that.

Rauf took Yusuf upstairs to where he and Rashid had their own quarters, nicer than anything in the rest of the academy. Inside his room it smelled like fresh bread and cranberries. "Here," he said, his home. He rarely brought other angels here, Yusuf had never been.

He was unreasonably excited to be led into Rauf's room. Yusuf seemed to be bouncing while he went in and observed every little thing. It was just so… Rauf. Everything smelled like him, and food, but also him, and he wasn't sure if he should feel ashamed for being aroused by that. He cooed, and came back to stand before him.

Yusuf slid his hand into Rauf's, sure that his pupils were a bit dilated. "I just want to bury myself in it," he said. "I don't want to be anywhere that doesn't have your scent." This, all of this was what he'd been missing. Rauf's hands, and his callouses, and the little feathers that showed up at the corners of his jaw. His smell. Their smell.

Rauf smiled as Yusuf went to explore his room. Normally he didn't even like people in here but for some reason with Yusuf it was okay. He liked seeing his Yusuf in here. Rauf sat until he was done, wincing a little before making his wings comfortable.

He stood back up once Yusuf was done inspecting the place. Instantly he was keyed in to the fact that Yusuf /smelled/ turned on. Rauf physically couldn't help but react to it. Soldier or not this was his life mate, basically Yusuf breathed and Rauf was turned on.

Rauf wrapped his arm around Yusuf's waist. "I think that can be arranged," he assured Yusuf and kissed him. As he did his hands went to Yusuf's waist and then around to his ass and then down a bit. With ease, despite old bones, Rauf picked Yusuf up from under his thighs, still kissing him, and walked them over to the bed. He put Yusuf down and then pushed him back against the mattress and pillows and blankets, kissing him and letting his hands roam down Yusuf's legs slowly to pull them around his waist.

Tightening his legs, Yusuf pulled his hips up, mostly to finish getting his wings out from under him, but fuck, that felt really good. He rubbed Rauf's shoulders, and then his very sparsely feathered arms. He remembered seeing him with feathers absolutely everywhere, and though Rauf had been overly conscious of them, Yusuf loved them. They gave him an excuse to be touching him nearly all the time, with so many feathers to keep clean.

He looked up at Rauf with a smile, one that hadn't seemed to leave his face since seeing him. "I'm okay," he said, as if Rauf was worrying. And he was okay, mostly. It was kind of like a switch, like Yusuf's body forgot it was supposed to be acting like a big bad soldier.

"Just... tell me if you get uncomfortable," Rauf said, though was relieved that Yusuf was okay with this. He knew that things could go from okay to not okay for soldiers pretty quickly. So he just wanted to do what Yusuf would like.

One thing Rauf really wanted to do was take that damn tunic off Yusuf. He knew Yusuf wasn't soft, neither of them really were, but he didn't... really care right now. He tugged at the bottom of Yusuf's tunic while he kissed him. He couldn't decide which was more important. Kissing Yusuf or getting him naked. Frankly they were both pretty high on the 'has to happen right now' list.

It took him a couple of seconds, but he caught on to the fact that Rauf wanted the tunic off now, so he was trying to slip it from his arms. Yusuf didn't even remember why he'd put it on. His Keeper had been pretty relieved to see him clothed, perhaps. He fought with it for a few moments more, and got it out of the way. He just wanted Rauf's hands on him again.

Rauf ran his hands along Yusuf's chest and then down his flanks back to his thighs. Every part were good parts as far as Rauf was concerned. They all felt and smelled good.

Once Rauf was at least partially satisfied with how he'd mapped out Yusuf's body he turned his hands to a different purpose. He reached down to Yusuf's bump and ran his band against it. He pressed his thumb into the slit where Yusuf's cock was sheathed. Penetration was completely out of the question, Rauf didn't even bother to entertain the thought. But just because they weren't going to fuck didn't mean he couldn't get Yusuf off our make him feel good. Because Rauf had every intention of that.

Yusuf's chest jumped, and he keened quietly. He ground up against Rauf's hand, coaxed out of the sheathe by his fingers. Clearly, he liked that, and clearly, he also had no idea what to do with himself. He hadn't even been mated before the assault, and had been left pretty much to fend for himself while he and his body knew that pretty much everyone else was getting some. And then they'd all come back to the academy smelling like breeders and sex, so the handful and a half of the less fortunate soldiers were left even more frustrated.

Here Rauf was doing basically what Yusuf had fumbled to do for himself, but it was more than a thousand times better. One, because he knew what he was doing, and two, because it was Rauf, for crying out loud. He even remembered coming to Rauf to ask for duties, something to take his mind off the fact that he wasn't breeding someone. At the time, he hadn't thought about whether or not Rauf felt similarly.

Rauf sat back between Yusuf's legs, which were still coiled around his waist, so he could use both him hands easier and not hurt either of them with his claws. At least unlike Yusuf's Rauf's were filed down some, to help prevent scratching or accidental clawings. It made sense for him, since his hands were rarely used for fighting now. He tugged on the end of Yusuf's cock to make it more interested in what was going on since he was still half sheathed. He grinned when it came out all the way and lay against Yusuf's belly rather uselessly.

Rauf was rather proud of himself for it actually since soldiers were notorious for having a hard time unsheathing without a breeder around. He squeezed it to make Yusuf squirm in delight. "Someone needed some attention after the assault huh?" Rauf teased him with a grin. Rauf had just learned to ignore his urges for the most part. He only wanted Yusuf and wasn't going to get him so it was pointless to not just take care of whatever frustrations he had with his own hand.

He leaned down to kiss Yusuf again and rocked his hips against Yusuf's. His body needed very little other prompting to unsheath and rauf groaned a little. Decades of waiting for this and his body was literally aching for it. He really wished Yusuf wasn't a soldier right now. He was happy to get Yusuf however he could manage but… he wouldn't lie in saying he wish Yusuf was breeder right now.

"I wasn't paired before it," Yusuf managed, hot and ready and pliant below him. His toes curled behind Rauf and his wings twitched when he was kissed again. Yusuf was left breathless, the last of it slipping from his mouth in a whine. At that moment, he didn't care if Rauf fucked him. He wanted to feel good and forget about all the stupid fighting they had to do.

"Poor thing," and Rauf wasn't even teasing him. He put his forehead against Yusuf's. "Too bad you didn't remember anything," he kissed the end of Yusuf's nose and took a firm hold of his cock, squeezing it. It made Yusuf squirm again and Rauf liked that. Rauf adjusted how he was over Yusuf before he changed up where his hand was so it more encircled both of them. Rauf groaned when he moved his hips to rub against Yusuf, his wings flapping a little.

Yusuf was a softly whimpering, but happy mess. "I want... I want you to fuck me," he said rather suddenly, voice more moan than anything. He must have figured out how to ignore that stupid little part of him in favor for everything else that practically screamed to be filled and fucked into.

He might not smell exactly like a breeder, but his body still responded that way, and rather than be appalled like a soldier would, he chose to take it as it was. Yusuf's body wanted something, and he voiced that even though it still embarrassed him. Rauf's hand and the weighty heat of his cock pressed up against the underside of his own was perfect, but he wanted more.

Yusuf felt him alright, there was no denying that, but he wanted to feel him and whine and buck and hate that they'd had to fight this stupid war and forget that he ever forgot his Rauf. He needed to be reminded that he was always Rauf's.

"You want-" Rauf trailed off when his brain properly caught up with what Yusuf had just said. The feathers on his hair flared up with interest. Oh he was in to that. Quite literally too. Or he was about to be.

Rauf leaned down and nuzzled against Yusuf's neck and face, kissing his jaw and his throat. "You're exactly what I want," he told Yusuf softly, adoringly. He bet Yusuf felt sort of awkward about this. He wasn't soft or giving or pretty like a breeder was but Rauf didn't care. "I missed you," he said and kissed Yusuf sweetly, "So much," he pressed his forehead against Yusuf's briefly, "Every day," another kiss on the lips. "I love you," he kissed Yusuf again. Love was different now, it was something angels felt in a different capacity than humans, or even proeathans did. Most angels didn't get attached to each other except for as friends. Sometimes as life mates but it wasn't the same as love. Love was something angels had had to have known as a human-avian to understand.

Yusuf let his head tip back, and when Rauf kissed him, he returned it eagerly, and was markedly less sloppy. With a soft noise, Yusuf opened his hips even wider.

"I miss you now, for all the time I didn't remember," he cooed quietly. "But you're still mine," Yusuf said, the old word tumbling from his mouth.

"Yes I am," Rauf agreed and grabbed Yusuf's leg. If Yusuf wanted to do this he wasn't going to let his chance go or he might have to wait not only till his next cycle but Yusuf's too. He groaned in relief when he pushed in and leaned over Yusuf, his wings fanning out over them like a feathery done. "And you're mine," he kissed Yusuf again and rocked his hips forward and inward.

Yusuf inhaled sharply, then arched. His breath shuddered for a while until he regained control of his diaphragm. "Yes, yessss," he whined, hips pushing back against Rauf. He was surprisingly okay with this.

Rauf's nails scratched at Yusuf's thigh, drawing raised lines on his skin but they weren't sharp enough to penetrate flesh. As a typical soldier though Rauf didn't last very long, only a few short minutes before he came with a strung out warble. He held himself up over Yusuf, panting heavily, feeling completely exhausted.

With a groan he pushed himself off and onto his side, his wings limp beside him. He felt so tired, more tired than he probably should have been. He was too old for that sort of rigorous activity. "I'm too old for this," he groaned, his wings also sort of hurt.

Yusuf made a mess of his stomach when he came - much earlier than Rauf had. He watched him, purring and cooing at him. His body curled against Rauf's while he tucked himself under his wing.

Rauf was happy when Yusuf attached himself to his chest and he felt a need to sleep come over him. At least Yusuf didn't need help to finish, because Rauf was tired. He curved one of his wings over them and then twitched it a bit till it felt comfortable. He reached over to stroke Yusuf's chin with his thumb, "That was really nice," he said in a rough voice and nuzzled him affectionately.


End file.
